Harry Potter and the Wand of Ravenclaw
by Dai Llewellyn
Summary: Post HBP. The hunt for the Horcruxes begins. Harry, driven and fierce, throws himself into the fight against Voldemort. Obstacles stand in his way. Warning: Strong HHr bias from the outset. I am a Harmonian, I make no excuses.
1. A Hollow Night

_Chapter One - A Hollow Night._

An illuminated clock tower stood like a blue-hued beacon against the black sky. Dense cloud and a drifting fog obscured from view any stars whose light was visible against the electric orange glow of the buzzing streetlamps or the subdued glimmer of the clock face. According to the hands it was nearly three a.m. To the one person awake in the little village it could have been any time at all.

For time seemed to have little meaning these days for Harry Potter. Nights spent fully awake, days filled with endless ponderings and poring over maps and antique catalogues; constant research into the possibilities and permutations of the mind of Lord Voldemort and into what sorts of precious objects the most evil dark sorcerer of all time would wish to diffract his soul.

This was the reason why he found himself here, in the middle of the night. He was somewhere in Wales, though he couldn't be sure where. He was no great geographer. In any case, he wouldn't have been able to pronounce it; it was Abercwmdyddderi, or something like that. The sort of place name that should have bought a vowel years ago. But that wasn't tremendously important; after all, it hadn't bothered his parents so why should it bother him?

The night time wanderings had become a feature of Harry's recent life. On the eve of his seventeenth birthday, his last night at Privet Drive, he announced to the Dursleys that he would leave them the next morning to go off and join the war against Voldemort, and that it would most likely cost him his life. He remembered the odd look of horror which flashed across Aunt Petunia's face at these words; it was a look that haunted his dreams. Even worse was the little sob she let out when he forced a 'thank you' from his mouth for allowing Dumbledore's magical protection to work for all these years. He thought it was what the great man would have wanted him to do, even though it cost him every ounce of humility he possessed. It was then, at the end of their connection, that Harry really appreciated that deep down, very, _very_ deep down, Aunt Petunia was, after all, a blood relative. On some well concealed sub level she remained Lily Evans's sister.

Harry had strode from Privet Drive at exactly eight o'clock the next morning. Uncle Vernon had already left the house and Harry, accompanied by Hermione and Ron, said a last goodbye, informed them that the magical qualities of the house were now totally removed and then left with just a mumbled goodbye. He summoned the Knight Bus and headed straight for the Ministry of Magic in London.

Harry remembered the strained trip, the beginning of a strained relationship with those two closest to him. They bombarded him with questions about what he was going to do; well, Ron asked once and didn't open his mouth again after the verbal lashing Harry handed out. Hermione, though, was her usual persistent self, demanding an explanation and adding threats that she and Ron would leave at the next stop. Harry told them nothing was stopping them doing just that and he wouldn't stand in their way if they chose to abandon him. He secretly wanted them to; he knew his path would lead them into great danger and had resolved to keep them away from it as much as he could. Still, the hurt look on Hermione's face at the suggestion still filled him with terrific guilt.

Once at the Ministry (Hermione's threats had proven to be hollow) Harry marched straight up to Level Six and after a heated discussion with Wilkie Twycross (which ended with Twycross being threatened at wand-point by Harry) a hasty Apparition test was arranged. Harry passed first time, apologised to Twycross and left with his license before anyone really knew what had happened.

This was crucial to Harry's plan. Already wracked with years of guilt at putting his friends in danger Harry had decided to do as much of the actual Horcrux hunting as possible alone. He was content to let Hermione do the research (why deny the girl her first love) and let Ron think up extraordinarily complex and highly imaginative plans to destroy the various pieces of Voldemort's soul, but when it came to the really dangerous act of actually venturing into the world to find them he was determined to do this by himself.

Which was why night time had become suddenly the most convenient time of day. For one thing it provided the cover of darkness. This had been a problem for Harry for a very short space of time. After a covert visit to Fred and George's flat Harry told them that he needed a special potion which would allow him to see in the dark. This need, Harry demanded, was not to be repeated to either Hermione or Ron. Fred and George seemed to know what Harry was thinking and within a few days of the request had brewed up the NightSight Solution, on the condition that once the war was over they could market it as a novelty product.

The night also had the dual advantage of being the time when Harry could escape from his constant shadows. Hermione seemed to have read Harry's mind about his plans to slip away and was following him around wherever he went, hoping to stop him in the act. Harry, however, had finally found the determination to learn complex magic skills and spent most day hours practising and practising non-verbal spells, Occlumency and Legilimancy with Hermione and Fleur, who were the only two capable of performing the spells and helping him in the house. The Burrow was a hive of activity in preparations for the wedding, which had to be put back due to Bill's meat craving becoming all-consuming at the time of the full moon. In this atmosphere of distraction Harry confined himself to his room or the field behind the Burrow where he could practice spells or study his books on advanced magic, both defensive and offensive. And he was becoming quite proficient.

In fact, Harry had even invented his first spell. He kept this very quiet from everyone (not even Ron knew) for it was quite a violent spell. Harry comforted himself that the desire to make it work came from his thirst for revenge and the determination to protect his friends, and to have to commit any atrocities on his own so they wouldn't have to. If love was to be the weapon which finally ended Voldemort then Harry decided it must have a devastating manner of expression. These things were not likely to be found in _The Standard Book of Spells._

So Harry had taken to inventing his own. He was, in part, inspired by Snape's boasts about being the Half-Blood Prince. All the spells in that book had been invented by him, so using them against him would be pointless. Harry knew that the only way to defeat Snape was to do something unexpected, something he hadn't seen before. Hence the reason for creating new spells, building an armoury of weapons that Snape, or Voldemort, wouldn't be prepared for. Harry was willing to pit his good, 'love weapons' against the baddest tools that the Dark Arts had to offer.

This had meant an extended stay at Hogwarts and long hours, usually at night, in the library. Harry had pleaded with Headmistress McGonagall to be allowed to use the castle and its resources, pointing out that he needed to know everything he could to have any chance against Voldemort. McGonagall had reluctantly agreed and Harry strongly suspected that the constant presence of a certain groundskeeper was the only thing that swayed her decision.

Still, it was a strange experience. Harry was used to Hogwarts by dark; he had taken so many night time wanderings of the castle that he felt he would have known his way around it blindfolded. Even so, this incarnation of the castle was markedly different from anything he'd ever known. It was cold. Not in a chilly, frosty way, but in its atmosphere. The castle was empty; no students, no teachers, no activity. It was quiet and still and haunting with only the house elves and Hagrid providing any life in the old place. The sense of solitude was stark and surreal to the bustling activity of the Burrow and Harry had long decided that he disliked each in equal measure.

But needs dictated, leading Harry to spend hours poring over ancient volumes illustrating just how a wizard would go about inventing his own spells. It was a mixture of amalgamating complicated parts of old words long out of use and pairing them with an appropriate wand movement. Harry's first attempts were abject failures; he was using the trusty Room of Requirement to create test scenarios which tended to be little more than a room full of masked Death Eaters. These were the subjects on which he would try out his new spells.

His early attempts were pathetic and had no effect at all, but after a few alterations and tweaks he had finally invented a workable little jinx. He dubbed it the 'Eight Rack' hex as the wand movement resembled a figure 8 and the victim was left with their arms and legs stretched out fully and their wrists and ankles bound fast to one another. The incantation, ('_Ochoviamus!_') had come later and Harry soon realised it was much easier to perform this spell non-verbally than to speak the word itself. Now he was just itching to try it out.

But as yet his nocturnal ventures had not brought him into contact with the enemy. Harry divided his jaunts during the unearthly hours between spell creating at Hogwarts and Horcrux searching across the country. He had followed up four suspected leads so far but each one had proven false. But instead of returning to the Burrow he tended to take a little detour to that small village in Wales and sit quietly at the graves of his parents in the shadow of the long-derelict Godric's Hollow.

That was where he was now. His parents graves were simple affairs; just two small plots in what would have been the back garden, each surrounded by a ring of small pebbles and two square headstones embossed with the name of the soul buried beneath them. There was none of the grandeur of Dumbledore's tomb here and Harry liked that; he didn't think his parents would be comfortable beneath such a shrine. This simplistic vision was much more their style, or so Harry had come to believe.

The night was quiet and Harry liked that about the place. Every time he came here it was peaceful, resounding with a silent safety that he liked very much. He didn't say much when he sat at the foot of the graves, just looked mostly and thought of the things he should be saying. This was enough to him. He thought about the conversations he should be having with the headstones, telling his parents all about his life and things that were going on. He even imagined their responses sometimes and played out entire conversations to himself, often sitting there for several hours. It was at these times more than any other that Harry really wished his parents could be there to help him do what he needed to do.

Harry's mind often span at this paradox; for if his parents _were_ still alive then he wouldn't have to do anything, other than be a soldier against Voldemort. This led Harry to wonder how Neville, the other potential Boy Who Lived, would be dealing with this situation in his place. Secretly, with arrogance that shamed him, Harry was almost glad that the situation wasn't reversed. If it were, Harry thought, we'd all be as good as dead. Besides, Neville was nervous enough and Harry wouldn't want any of his friends to shoulder the burden he had to.

As he sat there musing over all these thoughts Harry suddenly heard a noise behind him. Quicker than a flash his wand was out, pointing towards the disturbance. It was a sort of rustling and the first one was quickly followed by another. A few more later and Harry was sure they were footsteps and leapt behind his mother's headstone ready to fight. Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows at the side of the wrecked house.

'So, this is where you've been going every night?' said a voice from the darkness.

'Hermione?' said Harry. 'What are you doing here?'

'What do you think I'm doing here, Harry?' whispered Hermione, a trace of anger in her voice. 'Taking a night time stroll two hundred miles from The Burrow?'

'Being sarcastic doesn't answer my question,' said Harry pocketing his wand and getting up from behind the statue.

'I've come to see where it is you keep slipping off to,' said Hermione, annoyed. 'You must think I'm incredibly stupid, Harry.'

'We've had this discussion before I think,' said Harry irritably. 'Anyway, how did you find me?'

'You're not the only person who can Apparate,' said Hermione. 'Let's not forget whose being doing it longer, either.'

'No, we shouldn't do that,' said Harry. 'We all know how you get when your brilliance is challenged.'

Hermione seemed unable to respond right away and Harry could see in her face that she was shocked. But he didn't care; her interfering was starting to get annoying.

'And by the way,' Harry continued, 'sneaking up on someone when there's a war on isn't a nice thing to do. I could've cursed you back then.'

'And sneaking off when people are trying to look after you is utterly irresponsible!' snapped Hermione.

'Er, maybe you haven't heard,' said Harry, 'but Lord Voldemort is trying to kill me. And just because you're the only one who doesn't clam up at the sound of his name doesn't mean that you, or anyone else, can "look after" me. The safest I'll be is hunting and destroying the Horcruxes. It's the only way to weaken him. Now, I'm sorry if this gets in the way of your little plans to protect me at the Burrow, but tough luck. Deal with it.'

'I know what it is you have to do, Harry,' said Hermione, her tone softer than before, 'I just don't know why you keep trying to do things alone. You keep blocking everything, and everyone, out. We're only trying to help.'

'But what if you can't?' said Harry, rounding on her in the dark. The shine of the moonlight in her eyes startled him slightly but he continued, 'I have to face him in the end. Not you or Ron or anyone, just me. And maybe I'm the only one who can destroy the Horcruxes. These things have self-defence mechanisms built in. Two of them killed Dumbledore; the ring made his hand useless and slowed his reactions, and going for the fake locket nearly killed him. _I_ nearly killed him. I certainly helped weaken him enough to be killed by Snape. I don't want to make you or Ron do those things to me or for them to put you in danger.'

'And I've already told you – we've already told you – that we do this willingly,' said Hermione, facing down Harry's anger in the shadows. 'We put ourselves at risk, and we do it for you. Not because we have to but because we choose to. If Dumbledore couldn't do these things alone do you think he'd want you to?'

Harry desperately wanted to say that he wouldn't know what Dumbledore wanted because he was dead. But instead he just stood there.

'I just don't like you going off on you own, Harry,' Hermione continued. 'You're too important to be risked. You're the Chosen One and all that. We're nothing. Expendable.'

'You are not expendable!' said Harry defiantly. 'I mean, how would I explain to Ron if anything happened to you? How would I tell your parents?'

'How would I cope with the grief of you dying, Harry?' said Hermione desperately. 'How would I feel surrounded by everyone mourning your death and just waiting for the day that Voldemort comes and bangs down the door?'

'You'd have Ron, you'd get over it,' said Harry.

'That simple, is it?' said Hermione hotly. 'Six years of friendship, of struggle, of bravery, of – it means nothing to you? Oh Harry, it'd just be awful!'

To Harry's immense surprise she threw her arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. He patted her hair a little awkwardly. He never had been good with women in situations like this.

'Come on, Hermione, that isn't going to happen,' said Harry.

'How can you know?' she sobbed, her wet eyes reflecting a now watery moon. 'You're in so much danger, we all are. You don't know how _worried_ I've been, waking up night after night seeing your bed empty, running around the house expecting to find your – oh, Harry, I just cant stand this!'

'Hermione you have to calm down, this won't get us anywhere,' said Harry. 'Come on, - um – stop crying, and let's go back to the Burrow.'

'No!' said Hermione passionately. 'This is where you feel you have to be right now and I'm going to be with you wherever that place is. So we stay.'

'Are you – are you sure?' said Harry, startled. 'I mean – it's a bit morbid.'

'Its not morbid, Harry, it's your parent's graves. I understand why you're drawn here.'

'Y-you do?' said Harry. 'Ok then, well, I was only sitting, thinking. You know, about stuff.'

'You haven't got to tell me anything, Harry,' said Hermione. 'They're your thoughts, not mine. You don't have to share them.'

'I just sort of talk to mum and dad,' Harry blurted out. He half expected Hermione to laugh but she just looked at him sorrowfully, pityingly, those watery eyes on the verge of tearing up again. 'I just talk, random stuff, you know. The sort of things you say to your parents. It isn't anything special.'

'So this _was_ their house,' said Hermione looking around. 'This is where it, you know…?'

'Yep,' said Harry. He had already conquered that demon by exploring the ruins on his first visit. 'Up there where the bedroom would have been. That's where it happened – mum I mean.'

'Oh Harry –' Hermione sobbed.

'I must say I like what Voldemort did with the place,' Harry heard himself saying. 'I'm sure Dad would have liked the new decorations.'

Hermione gave a little sob-cum-giggle and walked to Harry. They sat down next to the headstones and just looked up at the house. After a while of looking between the devastated shell of the building and the graves of his parents, Hermione did something unexpected and took Harry's hand, squeezing it tightly in her own.

'You never have to think you're alone, Harry,' she said, as though reading his mind. He could only smile at her and return the hand squeeze as together they sat quietly enjoying the peace of the night.


	2. Portraits and Possibilities

_Chapter Two – Portraits and Possibilities._

It was past dawn when Harry woke up. In fact, judging by the strength of the sunlight, it was probably well into the morning. Harry didn't even remember falling asleep but he had to admit there was a certain freshness about the morning. He didn't really want to move, feeling that he'd be happy to stay there all day. Then he looked down.

He had almost completely forgotten that Hermione was there at all. She was sound asleep, head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, her bushy brown head bobbing up and down as she breathed. Harry noticed he was now resting against the side of his mother's headstone, a most bizarre place to sleep, he thought, and one that couldn't be healthy. He felt a little awkward having Hermione asleep upon him; how would he wake her? How would she react if he did? How long could he sit there until she woke of her own accord? Probably ages, he thought to himself; there was something comforting about the warmth of her next to him and he would have been quite content to close his eyes and get a little more rest. But he knew, by now, that he, that they both, would be missed.

Gently he tapped her shoulder. Nothing happened. He hadn't expected it to; he had tapped her so softly she probably wouldn't have felt it even if she was awake. He tried again, this time pushing her head a little and breathing her name into her hair. She slumbered a little at this, but instead of waking merely turned her body and slid her arms around Harry's waist, settling her head into his chest.

Strangely, he felt an involuntary beat escape from his chest and a little shiver tickle up his spine that had nothing to do with the light breeze dancing around the garden. He shrugged it off and tried to wake Hermione a little more forcefully.

'Hermione, wake up,' he said rubbing her shoulders slightly. 'We have to go now.'

'What, Ron? What is it?' Hermione mumbled, half-asleep.

'It – er – isn't Ron, it's Harry,' he said.

'Wha?'

Hermione sat up quickly and looked around in surprise. Her hair was fuzzy and her eyes bright and confused.

'Morning,' said Harry with a smirk.

'Oh, Harry,' said Hermione, startled, smoothing down her hair. 'Sorry - I can't believe we fell asleep. What time is it?'

'Dunno,' Harry replied. 'I haven't got a watch.'

'Oh, well, never mind, we'd better be getting a move on anyway, people will be wondering where we are. Oh my, what are we going to tell them?'

Hermione was blushing furiously and Harry, watching this in avid confusion, didn't really have an answer for her.

'We'll just say you went out and I followed you,' said Hermione, thinking fast. 'You went somewhere close, somewhere like Stoat's Hill. Yes! That's far enough away. You went out, I followed you, and we only just got back. That's what we'll say.'

'Ok,' said Harry still smirking. Then he said, a little quieter, 'But is spending the night with me really that bad a secret to keep?'

'Oh, Harry, I didn't mean – well, what I meant to say was – oh, don't you know how that'll look?'

'It won't look like anything,' said Harry, still confused. 'We're friends. Everyone knows that.'

'Not everyone knows that,' said Hermione darkly. 'And besides, you of all people should know how innocent things get twisted. Rita Skeeter's left your memory already, has she? All those horrible things she printed about you, about _us._ People's minds work in funny ways, Harry.'

'Yeah, and yours funnier than most!' said Harry. 'Look, I get what you're saying. I really do. But I can't see anyone thinking what you reckon they will. Unless there was something in Rita's articles, eh?'

Harry playfully nudged her arm.

'Don't tease, Harry, it isn't funny,' said Hermione.

'I'll believe that only when you stop smirking,' Harry replied.

'Come on, can you Apparate on an empty stomach?'

'Last one on Stoat's Hill's a rotten pumpkin,' said Harry and swirled around before Hermione had chance to respond.

Moments later he found himself on top of the familiar hill where he, Hermione and the Weasleys had once met up with the Diggorys to Portkey to the Quidditch World Cup. Ignoring a stabbing pang of guilt at the thought of Cedric, Harry flung himself to the ground and propped himself into a lounging position. And in good time, too, as no sooner was he set than Hermione materialised in front of him.

'Not very good at this, are you?' Harry teased. 'I've been here _ages_. I'll gladly give you some pointers, if you like.'

'Get up, Harry,' said Hermione, 'we're late already.'

'Whatever you say… Miss Pumpkin.'

'If you don't wipe that grin off your face the only pumpkin you'll be mentioning will be in pie form, mashed down because you wont be able to eat solids from where I cursed you to oblivion!'

'Aww, I didn't know you cared so much,' said Harry, cradling Hermione mockingly.

'Get off me,' she giggled, shrugging him off. 'You're so annoying.'

'Thanks, I've been practising.'

'Why? You were so perfect at it already!'

They spent the rest of the walk back arguing Harry's merits as an annoyance and Hermione's merits as an eternal pessimist. Harry lost so responded by pushing Hermione into a hay bail in a field just outside the Burrow. He never did take losing well. Hermione, after recovering herself, fired a few Jelly-Legs and Laughing curses at Harry as he entered the Burrow yard, but Harry was laughing so much it wouldn't have made much difference. He stopped by the garden gate to wait for Hermione, who marched in looking murderous.

'I'll get you back for that,' she said vehemently.

'You'll have to get up pretty early then.'

'I won't sleep!' she cried and pushed him towards the house, both of them laughing now.

They opened the door to the kitchen and entered. Immediately, a cacophony of noise erupted; screams and cries from all directions asking where they'd been and what they thought they'd been playing at. Mrs Weasley pulled Harry into a bone-shattering hug which knocked the wind out of him so that he had to sit down.

'Where have you been? What _have_ you been doing?' she asked Harry rhetorically.

'What's that in you hair, Hermione?' asked Ron coming over. He pulled something out of Hermione's bushy locks. 'It looks like hay? And look, a leaf! What _were_ you doing?'

'Oh it was Harry, he -' Hermione stopped at the look on Ron's face. 'He was being an idiot.'

Hermione rapped Harry on the arm and told her cover story. Harry, whose winding had rendered him incapable of speech was able only to nod in agreement. Hermione seemed convinced that her story had been accepted by the whole room but it was with a degree of astonishment that Harry looked from face to face and saw nothing but suspicion. Nobody seemed willing to press the issue though, leaving Mrs Weasley to chide them some more as she made breakfast for them.

Harry didn't stay in for long after breakfast. After seeing Ron and Hermione embark on a walk around the field behind the Burrow Harry felt he'd rather be somewhere else as the whole thing made him uneasy. Staying inside the house wasn't much better as Mrs Weasley kept muttering things about Harry's safety and Fleur and Bill kept shooting him oddly furtive glances. All in all this made him rather uncomfortable; he decided to go out and left with Mrs Weasley's warnings about being careful ringing in his ears. In the garden he passed Ginny. She was trying to get Crookshanks to play with her but the cat seemed thoroughly uninterested.

'Hi, Ginny,' said Harry in a would-be-breezy voice as he passed.

'Don't, "hi, Ginny," me,' she snapped before storming past him into the house.

'What did I do?' said Harry to a purring Crookshanks as the cat rubbed against his legs. The door to the house slammed hard and Harry turned away, vaulted over the garden wall and made his way along the winding path outside.

It wasn't long before Harry was bored. Ron and Hermione going out was all very well but it didn't half leave him feeling a bit isolated. Not that he felt that bitter about it. He was glad they had found something together. If he was honest, he even felt a little tinge of jealousy that they had something he desperately wanted.

Before despair gripped him too tightly Harry made up his mind to go to Hogwarts. Spinning like a top on the hayfield dirt track Harry felt the now familiar sensation of being squeezed through a bottle neck and emerged moments later outside the even more familiar gates flanked by winged boars. He pushed the gates open and entered the grounds, trotting along the slight incline of the sloping path. He forked right and made his way to Hagrid's cabin. The sounds of sizzling and Hagrid rattling around inside betrayed that the gamekeeper was awake.

'Be there 'n a minute,' said Hagrid as Harry knocked the door. It opened soon after and Hagrid beamed at the sight of him. 'Harry! Wha'cha doin' here? S'prised to see ya in the daylight.'

'Well, I was at the Burrow,' said Harry, 'but got a bit bored, you know, so I thought I'd come and see you. You don't mind, do you? I don't want to disturb you.'

'Nah, you aint' disturbin' me, Harry, come on in,' said Hagrid. Fang, the boarhound, bounded up to Harry as soon as he'd crossed the threshold and promptly tried to lick his face off. 'I was just makin' a bit o' brekky, do you want some?'

'No, thanks, I just had breakfast not long ago.'

'Ah, an' ya got Molly Weasley cookin' for ya, and I ain't a patch on 'er, ain't no truer way about it.'

'Ah, you know your cooking's legendary, Hagrid,' said Harry smirking.

'Aye, legendary be the word,' said Hagrid with a booming laugh. 'You can force a cuppa down tho, eh?'

'Yeah, that'd be nice,' said Harry.

Hagrid busied himself with the kettle. 'So, how's things, Harry?'

'What things? Harry replied. 'There are a few going on.'

'Well I know all 'bout your magic things,' said Hagrid. 'Sees you up here half the nights, don' I? I mean, at home. How're things with the family?'

'Oh, fine, you know,' said Harry, unsure what Hagrid was getting at. 'Its all "wedding this," and, "wedding that," a bit manic at times. At least its about something good I suppose.'

'And Ron and Hermione? How're they doin'?'

'Fine,' said Harry again. 'Why?'

'Well, you know, now that they're _together_ an'all. Must be a little strange.'

'Why should it be strange?'

'Well strange for you,' said Hagrid. 'No-one's to say its strange that Miss Hermione and Ron, well, you know. But for you, Harry, to be excluded from 'em. Must be a little weird for ya, after so long together an'all.'

Harry hadn't really though about it like that before. He always saw it has Hermione and Ron getting a little alone time away from everyone. Hagrid phrasing it like this gave it a much for personal slant and Harry felt really uncomfortable at the thought.

'Well,' he said after a while. 'It's a bit awkward I suppose.'

'I'll bet,' said Hagrid. 'Your two best friends all over each other, must be an odd sight.'

'I haven't seen them all over each other,' said Harry. There was something in the very construction of those words that Harry, for a reason he couldn't fathom, didn't like one bit.

'I remember when me an' Olympe, you remember, Madam Maxine? Well, when we was, ya know, we had to do it in secret too. Had to hide it from people. Didn't wanna make 'em uncomfortable, like.'

'You think they're hiding it from me?' said Harry, an odd, alien feeling rising in his chest. 'Why should they hide it from me?'

'Well, I dunno, Harry,' said Hagrid. 'Maybe they don' wanna make you feel awkward.'

'Why would I feel awkward?' said Harry. 'Don't they think I'd be happy for them? Happy to see them together?'

'Well, are ya, Harry? Are ya happy for them?'

Harry's immediate instinct was to say yes. But he paused, only for second, but the brief thought that flitted through his mind in that second seemed to last a lifetime. He eventually regained himself to say,

'Of course I am. They're my two best friends.'

'Well then, there ya are,' said Hagrid. 'Its them that's being silly. Being all coy if they don't need to.'

There was a feeling of finality in the conversation at that point. Harry sat quietly finishing his tea before asking Hagrid if he could open the doors to Hogwarts so that he could use the library. The castle was as subdued as ever; even the ghosts seemed to be absent. Harry plodded slowly along the corridor thinking hard to himself. The one overriding thought that kept intruding on other ponderings was giving him much concern.

_He wasn't happy for Ron and Hermione. _There was no two ways about it. He had thought it fleetingly in Hagrid's cabin but it was a thought now ingrained on the inside on his skull. He could even see the words scribbled down before his eyes. But why? What wasn't there to like about it? It had been obvious for years that it would happen but why, now that it had, did Harry not like it?

Thoughts and questions like this plagued him all the way to Hermione's Domain, the term he had fondly formed for the empty library. He sat down at the table usually frequented by him and his friends during their study times at Hogwarts. The pile of books he'd last used were skill scattered about and he thought how Madam Pince might spontaneously combust on the spot if she discovered her library in such a state. Harry scanned the covers of _New Spells for Old Sorcerers _and _101 Ways to Swish and Flick, volume II_ and wondered where to begin.

Soon he was immersed, knee-deep in discarded copies of DADA textbooks with notes and scribblings over a stack of parchment on the desk. He had discover a clever but complex little hex which caused masses of hair to grow over the eyes, thus impeding vision and on a related topic found the page on the Conjuctivitis Curse, which would come in handy to blind Death Eaters. He was writing down the incantation to this when his eyes stumbled across a counter-curse, _The Gryffindor Shield._

Harry's heart seemed to stop for a moment. He picked up the book and read the passage on the curse. Ignoring the part about the incantation and the wand movement he went straight to the explanation of the name:

…_it is believed that this counter-curse was first used by the legendary Godric Gryffindor. It is named after the trusty helmet and visor he wore to protect himself during battle, a piece of armour which has become synonymous with the great wizard…_

Harry read the words, again and again and again. This had to be it, this had to be the Gryffindor related-Horcrux. Voldemort collected trophies, that's what Dumbledore had said. …_synonymous with the great wizard…_ It all made sense. Harry shot up and tore from the library, heading for the Headmistress's office. He was amazed to find it open and vaulted the spiral staircase until he reached the top. He pulled open the door and ran inside to the hanging cabinet, suspended inside which was a shining silver sword. Harry took it out, feeling the familiar jewel-encrusted handle as if trying to glean some mystical guidance from it.

'Ahh, Harry,' said a voice from behind him, 'How pleasant it is to see you.'

Harry froze in shock and dropped the sword with an almighty clang. He dared not even turn around, unable to believe it was true.

'Professor Dumbledore? Sir? Is that you, are you really here?' said Harry.

'Yes, I am here. Like you've so admirably said on numerous occasions, "I shall never be truly gone from this school until there are none here who are loyal to me".'

'Then how did you - ' said Harry spinning around. 'Professor, where have you gone?'

'I am here, Harry.'

Harry followed the sound of the voice, the balloon in his chest already deflating like a punctured beach ball. Eventually, Harry's eyes met the portrait of Dumbledore on the wall.

'Why so morose, Harry?' asked Dumbledore pleasantly. 'You know that magic cannot awaken the dead. It can however, do so much more. I'm delighted with how they've drawn me, I'm so much younger that I felt. Don't you think? And what about this background? I have everything a portrait could want.'

'Its good to, er, see you, Sir,' said Harry sorrowfully.

'Now, Harry, I think we can drop the formality due to the change in my circumstance,' said Dumbledore. 'I am no longer your Headmaster so there is no need to call me "Sir" any more.'

'Then what should I call you?'

'I believe one's name provides a tangible clue to such a question.'

'I don't think I could get used to that,' said Harry.

'Well, perhaps it is a little early for that,' smiled Dumbledore. 'Perhaps when all this is over and you've grieved me properly. So, what brings you to the office? I've been watching you coming to the school, you know? All those hours in the Room of Requirement. I do like your new spell, very powerful stuff, Harry. And I don't think I've ever known you so much in the library without Miss Granger in tow, or forcing you there.'

'Yeah, well,' said Harry. 'Its about time I got my act together on the learning front. Expellirmus worked against Voldemort once and I think he'd be expecting it a second time, don't you?'

'Quite, quite,' chuckled Dumbledore.

'Sir, about those Horcruxes. Did you have-'

'Harry, Harry, before you begin,' said Dumbledore, 'along this path of questioning, remember one thing: I am a portrait. I am a memory of the great man I was. I possess neither the complete knowledge nor experiences of my earthly life. I am a record, a copy, a ghost in colour. I retain only what was most dear and important to me.'

'And this wasn't important?' said Harry, his voice rising in spite of the realisation that he was talking to a picture. 'This wasn't worthy of remembering?'

'Not in the long run, no,' said Dumbledore plainly. 'I remember my life, things I did, those I was close to. But I can neither guide nor teach you in my form, Harry. I hope I did enough in life on that score. And judging by that sword you just dropped I think I did.'

'What do you mean?' asked Harry.

'The sword of Gryffindor will be needed to destroy the Horcrux related to him. I remember that much.'

He finished the sentence and gave Harry a fleeting wink. Harry nodded, understanding Dumbledore's point.

'Thank you, Sir,' he said. 'You taught me all I need to know.'

'Good luck, Harry and remember – what most wizards lack is basic logic. If you can find one with this in excessive amounts, you'd do well to hold onto her.'

'Her?' said Harry. 'Her- '

And it dawned on him.

'Hermione!'

'Harry! Where on earth have you _been_?' she replied after clobbering him with a bear-hug that Mrs Weasley would have appreciated.

'Well, you and Ron were, um, _busy_ so I went out for a bit,' said Harry.

'On your _own?_ Hermione squealed.

'Well, in fairness, who would I have taken with me?'

There was a most un-Hermione-ish look on her face following this statement that Harry didn't know how to respond to at all.

'Oh Harry,' she said softly. 'I didn't think, I didn't realise-'

'Oh, it doesn't matter, don't worry about that,' said Harry quickly, cottoning on. 'Its, you know, what you want and everything. I like seeing you happy. Besides, I'm not that useless on my own.'

'That's debatable,' said Hermione smirking. 'I really am sorry, Harry. I suppose I didn't think how, well, _certain things_ would affect you.'

'That's surprising,' said Harry lightly. 'You should know by now how badly I need you.'

'What do you-' Hermione began. But at that point, Ron entered.

'Harry, there you are. Getting lost a lot lately, aren't you? Its like you've lost all sense of time and direction.'

'Its all this Apparating, mate,' said Harry. 'Messes with the mind.'

Harry glanced at Hermione and was unnerved; he'd known her for six years but in all that time she'd never looked at him like she was now. He didn't know what it was all about so tried to ignore it when he spoke again.

'Right, I'm glad your both here, I've got some important news,' he said. They both leaned a little closer to listen. 'I've made a breakthrough.'

'Really?' said Hermione. 'What kind of breakthrough?'

'Well, don't get excited,' said Harry. 'I'm not even sure I'm right. But it's a theory-'

'Spill it, Harry,' said Ron.

'I think I know what one of the Horcruxes is,' said Harry. 'What I need to know is, where in the world do we find it?'


	3. The flight

_Chapter Three – The Flight_

Hermione and Ron listened with expressions of mild excitement and doubt to Harry's theory on the Gryffindor related Horcrux. He talked fast and with little degree of fluidity, describing the discovery of the Gryffindor Shield counter curse and the subsequent train of thought which led to this point. Harry glanced up a few times at Hermione, whose eyes seemed laden with the same fear he had seen the night at Godric's Hollow and he knew she was less comprehending his ideas than wondering what an easy target he was making himself travelling alone all over the country.

When he finished they both sat in contemplation for a few moments. This infuriated Harry, who had expected a torrent of positive enthusiasm for his plan and congratulations for being so astute. This sort of response, however, was not forthcoming and later Harry wondered at his initial surprise. After all, he remembered, they hadn't been supportive of his suspicions against Malfoy last year, and he had been proven right on that occasion. It was one on those 'I told you so' moments that Harry was saving to bring up in just the right argument.

'I'm not sure about this, Harry,' said Hermione, speaking first.

'What isn't there to be sure about?' he retorted.

'Well – it's a bit vague, isn't it?' she said. 'I mean, his Uncle's ring – family connection; Slytherin's locket – family heirloom. These are trophies Voldemort would value. What makes you so sure – and don't jump down my throat at this, I'm just asking – that this is the Gryffindor trophy that Voldemort would value?'

'I wish you'd say You-Know-Who,' mumbled Ron. 'His name makes me queasy.'

'Oh Ron, just get over it!' said Hermione. 'He's our enemy now. Our personal enemy. I think we can drop the whole You-Know-Who malarkey. Me and Harry have and you should too.'

'Well, that's you and Harry, isn't it? I mean -'

'You mean what?' said Hermione.

'I mean that Harry's Harry, Chosen Boy Wonder and all that, and you – well, most powerful witch around for our age. What have I got against Voldemort compared to that?'

Hermione seemed satisfactorily flattered in spite of herself. Harry, though, was mutinous.

'So I take it that I can't count on your help then?' Harry said, riled.

'Well, it's not that, its just -'

'Oh I think it's just that,' said Harry, his voice continuing to rise. 'This is why I don't want you with me. All logic – logic and indecision. I don't need second guesses, I need to go for everything possible. I don't care if I have to destroy a hundred objects and ninety-nine of them are innocent so long as I get at least one Horcrux. If that's too much like hard work for you then fine, leave me to it. Go back to walking around like a couple of lovesick kids while I'm out saving your necks – again!'

Harry made to storm off but Hermione grabbed his arm. This was not a great idea.

'Get off me, Hermione!' Harry shouted. 'If you don't want to help me then just get away from me. Leave me alone.'

Hermione looked close to tears and Ron looked a mix of shocked at Harry's behaviour and angry at the way he'd treated Hermione. Harry thought about taunting Ron but settled for giving him a hard stare before yanking free of Hermione's grip and storming into the garden.

Harry was too infuriated to think any more about his plan. Instead he leapt over the stile separating the Burrow garden and the big field where they played Quidditch and stormed around in the yellowing grass. He took his frustrations out on a colony of gnomes he stumbled over, taking each of the squealing little men in turn and spinning them around him like a hammer-thrower before sending them sailing into the air. He looked towards the Burrow several times and saw Hermione watching each time. _She's probably looking to make sure no rogue Death Eaters come and get me,_ Harry thought bitterly. He tossed his latest gnome further than any of the others before storming up the field and out of sight of the house.

It was dusk before Harry decided that his anger and frustrations had subsided enough to return to the house. He made little effort of move quickly, letting his wizard's cloak trail behind him. He had taken to wearing this cloak almost everywhere he went, simply because it looked cool and made him feel like someone impressive. He watched the deep orange sun fall slowly behind Stoat's Hill in the distance, wondering vaguely what he would have to do to avoid conversations once he re-entered the Burrow. His thoughts still hadn't been able to settle on possible locations for the Horcrux but he was determined to give it a try, even if he had to do without his two helpers.

Harry was please to find the path to the stairs clear when he slipped in through the back door of the house. He scurried across the floor and took the stairs two at a time, ignoring a half-hearted call from Hermione who must have been waiting for him to return. There was a tone in her voice that suggested she knew her attempts to get him to stay would go unheard. Harry reached the attic bedroom and closed the door tightly before pulling off his cloak and shoes. He massaged his feet, which were a little sore after walking for hours on hard, rutted meadow ground. Laying back on his bed he looked around for his goblet. He spotted it on the dresser next to the door.

'_Accio Goblet!' _He said pointing his wand, catching the pewter cup as it reached his hand. He aimed his wand into the goblet. '_Aguamenti!'_

The goblet filled with water and Harry drank greedily, realising how thirsty walking in the sun had made him. _I wonder what the charm for Fire Whiskey would be, _he wondered. _Dumbledore made mead out of thin air at Privet Drive so it must be possible. Imagine - Butterbeer on wand! _He made a mental note to look up such possibilities on his next jaunt to Hogwarts.

The night rolled in. Harry was still holed up, quite undisturbed and quite content to fume, in the attic room. He was reminded forcibly of a Christmas at Grimmauld Place where a similar situation had existed, except on that occasion Harry had done it believing he was likely to be overtaken by Voldemort and kill all those in his path. It was with an almost amusing sense of déjà vu that Harry heard a small knock on his door around ten o'clock.

'I'm coming in whether you like it or not, Harry,' said Hermione's voice through the door. 'I'm only knocking in case you're changing, in which case you might want to make yourself decent.'

Harry pretended to be immersed in the first book he could lay his hands on. He almost groaned in disappointment when he saw which one it was.

'Either you love that book so much you know it by heart,' said Hermione coming in, 'or you're trying to hide from me, and doing a poor job of it.'

Harry gave in and tossed aside _Flying with the Cannons_ as Hermione closed the door and made her way across the room. She was balancing a tray with some cold meat sandwiches, a goblet of frothy Butterbeer and a slice or Pumpkin Pie. It was the sight of food, and the accompanying rumble of Harry's stomach, that begrudgingly destroyed any protest he had to Hermione's presence.

'I brought you something to eat, as you generally try to go on hunger strike whenever you get your knickers in a twist,' she said sitting down on the bed and smirking.

'I do not have my knickers in a twist!' Harry protested, reaching for the tray Hermione laid down.

'Well at least you admit to wearing them, which is a start,' said Hermione, smirking even more.

'Oh ha ha, very funny,' said Harry. 'Been thinking that one up all night, have you?'

'Yeah, did you like it?'

'No,' said Harry, cramming a sandwich in his mouth.

'Oh well. Anyway, I think we should have a little talk about your temper, Harry,' said Hermione, hitching up her knees.

'You do, do you?' said Harry with a gulp. 'And I think we should have a chat about your loyalties.'

'Meaning what?' she demanded.

'Meaning that you're either with me or against me,' Harry answered. 'I'm the one making the decisions and either you go with me on them or you don't.'

'Oh, I thought you meant something else.'

'What else could I mean?'

'Oh come on, Harry. We both know that you aren't happy about Ron and me.'

'What makes you think that?' said Harry, thrown by Hermione's briskness. 'You're my two best friends, I'm happy for you.'

'Really?' said Hermione raising her eyebrows. 'What about all the "you two do this" and "you two go off there" comments? Nothing in them is there?'

'No, nothing,' Harry said, though not quite meeting Hermione's eye.

'And what about all this running off alone? Is it really that hard to be around us?'

'I do find other things more comfortable, I wont lie.'

'Like what?' Hermione pressed. 'What's more comfortable than being around your best friends?'

'Um – the Cruciatus Curse?' Harry joked. 'It isn't easy being around you two when you're like you are. For someone so clever I'm surprised you haven't worked that out.'

'Worked what out?' said Hermione, hitching a starkly different look onto her face than she'd been wearing so far.

'That's its awkward for me to be around you,' Harry replied plainly.

'W-why is it awkward for you?' Hermione asked uncertainly. Harry looked quizzically at her. 'Well, either you don't like me and Ron being – er – closer, or you just don't like feeling excluded from something. Either way you're being silly.'

'Do you think?' asked Harry.

'Yes, I do. Am I wrong?'

'Totally.'

'I think I know you well enough to know your moods, Harry.

'I would have agreed with that once,' said Harry. 'Whatever happened to us?'

The look of mortification on Hermione's face threw Harry for a loop.

'What do you mean by that?' she asked quietly.

'Well we used to be so close,' said Harry. 'Sort of on the same wavelength, you know? You used to know my mind; it got scary at times how much we seemed to automatically understand each other. But it hasn't been like that for a while now.'

'Don't say that, Harry,' said Hermione, her voice still small. She wasn't looking at him anymore, finding the quilt rather more interesting.

'Well it's true. You were always there for me, always there to back me up or question me when I needed it. I suppose I am feeling a little isolated without that.'

'You aren't isolated!' said Hermione hotly. 'I'm still here for you. Both me and Ron are.'

'That isn't true, Hermione,' said Harry, 'not any more. And we both know it.'

Harry got up and walked to the window. He was about to voice a thought he'd had in his mind for some time and wanted it to come out just right.

'I've made a decision,' he said. 'And I think its best for everyone.'

'What are you talking about?'

'I – I think I'm going to leave,' said Harry, still watching the drifting clouds.

'What! Don't be stupid!' said Hermione.

'I think its best,' said Harry turning to look at her. 'I have another place to go. And I think I'll be better off there. More with people tuned into what I'm doing. I think its time I went and lived in a house that I own.'

'You're going to go _there_? On your own? Oh, Harry – I can't let you do that.'

'It isn't your decision to make,' he replied. He crossed to the bed and sat next to her, taking her hands. 'You and Ron are no good to me like this. To be honest, I'm glad; I never wanted you to be involved in the first place. You're so wrapped up in each other that you won't be focused on what needs to be done. But I am. Add the wedding preparations and all in all this is the last place I should be. Plus, Voldemort and his Death Eaters will be looking for me now that Dumbledore's gone and the farther I am from you, the safer you'll be. All of you.'

'No, Harry!'

Hermione threw her arms around him, knocking him back onto the bed. She was crying hard, harder than Harry had ever known her to. She was crying so hard that she didn't hear the door open. Harry saw Ron in the doorway and quickly dispelled his angry looks with a series of hand gestures. Ron nodded and intimated that he'd come back later. It was many more minutes before Hermione stopped balling, preferring to sob silently into Harry's chest.

'I can't b-believe this is happening,' sobbed Hermione.

'I think it's for the best,' Harry whispered into her hair, which was almost suffocating him.

'This cant be it, it just can't,' Hermione said, as though she hadn't heard him. 'It can't end like this.'

'End?' said Harry. 'What's ending?'

'You and me,' said Hermione looking up. 'You're going to go off and I'll never see you again. And even if I do, you won't be the same.'

'Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?'

'And what if you die? And there're things I haven't said to you? What then?'

'What things?' asked Harry. 'You can say whatever you need to now.'

'Oh, Harry – just hold me.'

Harry hugged her tightly, feeling her fingers digging into his flesh. Her quiet sobs went on for some time before she eventually cried herself out. She had been asleep some time when Ron finally came back in. Harry put his finger to his lips and beckoned Ron to him. Ron crossed the room and bent down.

'I don't want to wake her,' Harry whispered. 'She needs her sleep. You're going to have to move her with magic. But do it slowly.'

'Where's your wand?' Ron whispered back.

'Digging into my spine,' said Harry grimacing.

Ron smirked and took out his own wand. Hermione drifted gently up allowing Harry to dart out from under her.

'Cheers, mate,' said Harry gingerly rubbing his back.

'What was that about earlier?' Ron asked, lowering Hermione back to the bed.

'Oh, well,' said Harry, thinking fast. He'd decided to just sneak out and let Hermione explain everything later. 'She just cracked a bit, you know, all the strain of the war and that. She just had to let off some stress.'

'Oh,' said Ron, yawning. 'Well, I gotta get some sleep too. Where are you going to sleep, Harry? If you don't want to wake Hermione you'll have to find a comfy bit of floor, unless you wanna go in with Ginny.'

'Probably not a good idea,' said Harry. 'She isn't on best terms with me right now and I think you're mum might cook me from breakfast if she found me in there.'

'Good point,' said Ron.

'I think I'll try the sofa,' said Harry. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

'Right-o,' said Ron. 'Just mind the left side, spring came out of it when mum sat down earlier.'

Harry grinned and left the room, swiping his cloak when Ron's back was turned. He moved quietly downstairs, happy to find everyone in bed. He didn't fancy answering any awkward questions. Harry moved across the kitchen, stopping only to give Crookshanks a rub behind the ears.

'Goodbye, old boy,' said Harry. He couldn't but think of Hermione's words, wondering if this was indeed the last time he would see the bandy-legged cat. He was thinking the same sorts of things as he threw on his cloak and silently left the house. Was this the last time he would see the Burrow? He crossed the yard and cast one last look up at the attic room. He took a deep breath, comforting himself that he knew what he was doing was for the best. Then he span quickly on the spot and vanished.


	4. Return to Number Twelve

Chapter Four – Return to Number Twelve

Grimmauld Place had never been the most welcoming place even in the brightest of daylight, so it was positively unsettling by night. The little square in which the house sat was as run-down and filthy as Harry remembered it; a small patch of weed-strewn grass at the centre was encircled by an array of discarded chip papers, beer cans and other assorted litter. Underneath a graffiti-daubed wall at the far side of the square a metal bin crackled with a fire lit inside while pounding club music spewed from one of the many part-derelict houses around the place.

Clutching his wand tightly inside his cloak, Harry stole across the square casting nervous glances in all directions. Number Twelve's shining serpent door knocker glinted in the dirty orange neon of the streetlight. He thought about knocking, wondering who would be inside to open up, and whether they would allow him in. He decided that, as it was his property, he didn't really care what they thought and reached for the knocker anyway. As he did, a sudden fizzing noise held his actions. He looked down to see a handsome brass case materialise out of thin air next to the twisted serpent.

Harry looked at it for some time. The contrast of the case to the Dark Arts preference of the house was not lost on Harry. He considered for a moment that it might be trap; perhaps, now that Dumbledore had died, the attributes which had made the house so appealing as a Headquarters were no longer in place. Was it still Unplottable? Was the Fidelius Charm now defunct as its caster was no longer living? Harry remembered that Sirius had once told him that most of the charms had been put on by his security-conscious father and that Dumbledore wouldn't have had any effect on them. But what about the Fidelius, Harry thought. What if this house is a trap waiting for me? He realised then that the Order of the Phoenix must have a new leader, that although Dumbledore had been Secret Keeper that he surely couldn't have performed the charm on himself. Which led Harry to wonder who had cast the charm, and who they had approached to take it over in Dumbledore's stead.

Harry looked at the case and saw a small clasp holding a clear lid in place. Reaching down he unhooked the clasp and lifted the lid. Immediately, a shot of flame flew out of the box and when it died it left a piece of parchment floating in the air. Harry caught it, unfurled it quickly and read. The tight, loopy writing was undeniably familiar.

'_Hello, Harry. If you are reading this it can only mean that I have perished. I have placed this charm upon the door in readiness for this very event. It is a sign of my growing age that I had to steal an old idea of mine and re-work it. Novel ideas have been at a premium for me lately. You may remember in your first Hogwarts year that I performed a spell upon the Mirror Of Erised that allowed me to successfully hide the Philosopher's Stone to any but those who wished to find it but not use it. The spell I cast here is rather similar, except that this message could only appear to you and that only if you agree to the request within can anyone but you enter the house._

_'The request is thus: as master of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix you are automatically a member of the group. As we have established, I must be dead and the Fidelius Charm performed on me must also be dead. But here's where one of my most brilliant ideas has found a second use. This parchment contains a dormant Fidelius Charm as I used Fawkes flame to conceal it within the door. If you enter the house with the parchment then the charm will be awoken. If you burn it with your wand it will be passed onto you. I could think of no other who would be more trusted with such a secret as the one I have carried. If you choose to destroy the parchment outside or dispose of it before entering then the charm will void and the enemy will find us. It is, of course, a choice I leave to you._

_Your Eternal Friend,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. to open the door merely tap it with your wand, it will open if it deems you to be a friend. _

Harry was in no doubt about what to do. Folding the parchment carefully he took out his wand and tapped on the door as he had once seen Remus Lupin do. Harry heard the clicking and chinking of unlocking locks on the other side of the door. When these died down he pushed the door slowly open and moved inside. The corridor was pitch black, not a light in sight. Harry closed the door quietly, throwing himself into total blackness. He lit his wand and moved carefully forwards.

Keeping to the left hand side so as to avoid the trolls leg umbrella stand, Harry inched his way along the passage until he reached the door leading down to the kitchen. The house was eerily quiet and Harry was uneasy in the darkness. It was with a sharp pang of pity that he imagined what it must have been like for Sirius living here for a whole year on his own. No wonder he was so desperate to get out.

Harry edged down the narrow stone steps and into the kitchen. It was deserted and Harry wondered why he had expected anything different. There had been activity lately, though just how recent was impossible to tell. Harry bent down and lit a fire in the grate, sending a flickering orange light over the room. He remembered there being candles in one of the drawers and spent a good few minutes fishing them out and placing them in the candelabra on the table. After lighting these the kitchen was fairly well illuminated, though Harry doubted any amount of light could make up for the dirty, dingy nature of the place.

Harry took off his cloak and threw it over one of the chairs. The table still had several plates around it and Harry felt a bit peckish at the sight of them, wistfully thinking of the unfinished sandwiches and Pumpkin Pie left in the attic room at the Burrow. He wondered if Hermione had woken yet and realised he was gone and, if she had, how close she was to coming after him. He chuckled to himself and moved to the pantry.

There was a surprising amount of food there and Harry gathered up some bread and things to make himself a late snack. He also found a good stock of Butterbeer and took a few bottles with him to make a night if it. He didn't expect that he would sleep much, especially as it was the first time he had ever slept somewhere on his own. Despite his age, Harry felt rather nervous at the prospect.

He supposed this was due to the silence, and not just in the noise sense. Harry had always been aware of a kind of energy that came from being around people, a lingering presence that told you that you weren't alone. Harry was used to that from Hogwarts but also from the Burrow and even Privet Drive. He had never gone to sleep in a place he wasn't sharing with at least three other souls, and it was this sort of silence which was unsettling him.

He set about making his sandwich, amusing himself that the door would knock any moment bringing a white-faced Hermione or an assorted number of Order members to clamour for his attention. No such thing was forthcoming, however, so Harry settled himself down at the table and cracked open a Butterbeer. He read from the scattering of papers still on the table as he ate, looking at various maps and notes and plans. Some were old, including a rota of who was to guard Harry at various times; others were newer and contained names of suspected Death Eaters who were being watched. One, in a distinct swirly hand, had just one word: locket.

At the sight of Dumbledore's writing Harry's mind jogged itself. He reached inside his cloak and took out the parchment. He read it once more before placing the tip of his wand to it and setting it alight. It burned down to his fingers but he didn't feel any heat as it reached them and as the last part curled as turned to ash Harry felt a strange feeling inside, as though he'd just swallowed a block of ice. This, he assumed, was the completion of the charm and that he was now a Secret Keeper.

Harry thought about the other members of the Order, what they had made of being kept out of HQ and if they had tried to appoint other Secret Keeper after Dumbledore's death and if they knew why it couldn't have worked. Scanning over the other bits of paper and parchment Harry saw that it was mostly boring things with nothing much worthy of note. Finishing his sandwich, Harry cleaned up the plates and dropped them into the sink before tidying the papers and leaving them on a stool near the cupboard where the plates were kept. He decided that his first task in residence at this place would be to brighten it up and he was thinking about interior decorating prospects when he sat down and slowly drifted off to sleep.

A shaft of pale sunlight awoke Harry the next morning. He was stiff from sleeping on a wooden chair and his neck ached as he lifted it from his chest. Yawning widely, he got up and threw the remains of Butterbeer from his bottle down the drain. He pointed his wand at the sink and performed the 'Scourgify' charm, sending hot water streaming from the tap and setting a scrubbing brush hard to work on the plates.

Harry made his way back up to the hall and noticed that someone had encased Mrs Black's portrait in a cupboard, the door to which was laced with so many locks that it might have been guarding treasure. Harry looked at the moth-eaten carpet and decided that it would have to go. He was happy to notice that the mounted elf heads had been taken down and that all the furniture on the landing had also been removed. Harry continued his appraisal in the drawing room, which was bare save for a cabinet in one corner and a writing desk that had once contained a boggart. All other things, including the sofa and the curtains, had been removed.

As Harry visited every room he saw pattern emerge. The place had been made to feel less like a house and more like a sombre work space, which, Harry reminded himself, was probably the point. Still, if this was to become his home then it would have to be made to feel like one. Harry was having rare thoughts of creativity considering what he could to with the place and thinking how he could fit re-decorating around fighting Voldemort.

The knock he had been expecting came at a little after nine. Harry opened the door expecting Hermione to launch into a rant about how he dared to leave in the way he had. He was quite surprised, then, when instead of Hermione he found Remus Lupin standing in the doorway (he was not yet comfortable enough to call it 'my doorway').

'Good morning, Harry,' said Lupin pleasantly.

'Professor,' said Harry. 'What are you doing here?'

'Perhaps we can discuss it inside,' Lupin said. 'It might be best to be out of sight.'

'Oh yeah, of course,' said Harry. 'Come in.'

Harry stepped aside and allowed Lupin to pass before following him in. They made their way to the kitchen where Lupin shed his coat and sat down. He looked as ragged and threadbare as ever and Harry had a fleeting thought about what state the moon was in at the moment. Lupin, as always, looked like he could use a few square meals and a needle and thread. But his face was its usual warm self and he smiled at Harry as he sat down.

'I see you've become domesticated,' said Lupin looking around at the clean plates and the stacked papers.

'Yeah, well it was a bit messy,' said Harry.

'You're probably wondering how I know you're here,' said Lupin. 'Indeed, you've already asked me why I'm here and I've been a bit rude by not answering.'

'I was wondering about it,' said Harry. 'You haven't been to the Burrow, have you?'

'The Burrow?' said Lupin. 'No, not recently. Why? Have you left word there?'

'Um, not really.'

'Tell me that someone knows you're here, Harry?'

'I mentioned it to Hermione,' said Harry. 'But I didn't tell her when I was planning to come.'

'Really, Harry, you astound me,' said Lupin disapprovingly. 'You would have thought, especially in these times, that you would take a little more care with yourself. Your importance deserves more consideration than this.'

'You're actually sounding a bit like Hermione,' said Harry.

'Well, as long as someone has your best interests close to their heart,' said Lupin. 'It's just a shame you don't listen to her more. She's a bright girl.'

'You haven't got to tell me that,' said Harry. 'She's beaten me academically for years.'

'There's more to intelligence than academics, Harry.'

'I know that, and I know she tries to look after me,' said Harry. 'She just gets a bit too concerned for me sometimes. I need space to work at what I have to do. I'd hope that I wouldn't have to tell you how useless protection is for me these days.'

'You don't know that,' said Lupin.

'Voldemort only feared Dumbledore,' said Harry. 'Good witches and wizards have already been killed. Who do you know that could protect me from him? Of all the people around I doubt a seventeen year old witch would stand much chance, however good she is. I'd rather she stayed away and safe.'

'Actually, Harry,' said Lupin, 'someone like Hermione is _exactly _who you need close. People who care for you above and beyond that which an average friend does will fight harder and with more force than anyone else. Don't forget the protection your mother's love gave you.'

'Yeah, I don't. But I wouldn't want Hermione to give me that kind of protection, I would rather she stayed alive.'

'That might not be for you to decide,' said Lupin. 'And you may not be able to keep her, or your other friends, safe. But in any case, I'm sure she would be willing to make that kind of sacrifice for you, and that's the sort of person you want to keep close.'

Harry, who was finding the whole conversation uncomfortable and the room surprisingly hot all of a sudden, changed the subject.

'So, if you haven't been to the Burrow, how did you know I was here?'

'We have our sources at the Order,' said Lupin. 'We have been waiting for that Fidelius Charm to be performed here and as soon as it was we were alerted.'

'Did you know that Dumbledore had planned this, then?' asked Harry.

'He told a few of us, not long before he died, actually,' Lupin replied. 'It was as though he was expecting it. The whole series of charms he performed were only done a month or so before his death.'

'So, why have you come then?' asked Harry.

'To see how you are,' said Lupin. 'I know how difficult it must be for you to come back here, so the very fact that you are must mean something negative. I can't imagine you coming here unless you really had to. So I thought I'd come by and make sure you are alright. Nymphadora thought you might need company.'

'How is Tonks?' asked Harry. 'Where's she stationed now?'

'At the Ministry, mostly. I like her being there with the other Aurors, safety in numbers, you know. Like you with Hermione, I'd rather Nymphadora was far away from any action. Also like Hermione, however, I don't think I could keep her away no matter how hard I tried. But back to what we were saying, is everything alright? You being here alone doesn't look good.'

'Oh I'm fine,' said Harry. 'I was just feeling a bit crowded at the Burrow. Loads of people, you know? Just wanted a bit of space to think. I feel a bit like the odd one out with everyone all focused on the wedding and stuff. This was the only place I could think to go. I thought I could be of use to the Order and help out in the war while I search for the Horcruxes.'

'The what?' asked Lupin.

'Didn't Dumbledore tell you? He thinks Voldemort divided his soul into seven pieces and placed them inside Horcruxes, objects that do just the job.'

'I didn't know that, Harry,' said Lupin. 'But it's an intriguing theory. I suppose that's why he didn't die the night he killed your parents – because all his soul wasn't killed.'

'That's right,' said Harry. 'Dumbledore reckoned two of them were destroyed already – Voldemort's Uncle's ring and the diary that got into Hogwarts in my second year. We went looking for a locket the night he died but someone got there first and said they destroyed it, but I want to make sure. That leaves another three to find before I go after the last piece which is still inside Voldemort himself. I reckon his snake could be one piece which leaves just two others and the locket.'

'And have you any ideas for the other two?' asked Lupin, rapt.

'One is linked to Gryffindor,' said Harry, 'and I found this counter-curse that talked about Gryffindor having a helmet that everyone identified with him. I think that could be one but I don't know where I'd find it.'

'That's good detective work, Harry,' said Lupin. 'I know the helmet you are talking about. He is said to have worn it in many famous battles but was parted from it before his death.'

'How? It might help me know where to start.'

'I'm afraid I don't know,' said Lupin, sounding frustrated. 'But Gryffindor did become something of a pacifist before he joined the other four Founders at Hogwarts. At a guess I'd say try to find out anything you can bout him just before he and the others formed the school and start there. His sword went with him to Hogwarts but the rest of his armour must have been left somewhere shortly before that took place.'

'That's a good idea, I think I'll do that,' said Harry.

'You get onto it, Harry, and I'll have a think myself. Unfortunately, I'm no great historian.' Lupin got up. 'I think its time I got on. I have business with the Order to attend to.'

'Okay, Professor, thanks for coming by.'

'No chance you'll stop calling me that?' said Lupin smirking.

'It'd be weird not to,' said Harry.

They made their way back down the hall and Harry opened the front door.

'I don't suppose you know anyine who's good at decorating, do you?' said Harry. 'I wanted to cheer up the place.'

'Afraid not,' said Lupin smiling. 'Living amoung werewolves leaves little room for home improvements. I'll have to be getting along, Harry. You take care of yourself and I'll be in touch soon. No doubt the Order will want to trespass on your property before long.'

'They can come as soon as they like,' Harry replied. 'Just so long as they keep me involved.'

Lupin chuckled and made his way down the steps and within a few yards had Apparated away.

Harry had barely sat down before the door knocked again. Suspecting that he knew who would be on the other side this time he went back into the hall and opened the door a second time. This time, his guess was right.

'WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE PLAYING AT!'

Harry wasn't sure what was a greater shock; Hermione screaming at him was certainly a surprise, even though it wasn't wholly unexpected, but her tumbling backwards when she tried to enter the house was the last thing he – or she – expected.

'What is that?' she asked, getting up gingerly. 'Why cant I come in?'

'Oh yeah, I have to invite you,' said Harry, smirking and leaning against the door frame.

'Well go on then, invite me in,' said Hermione.

Harry looked at the mad look on her face. 'Can I trust you?'

'What?'

'Well, you look a bit crazy. If I let you in will you promise not to hit me or nag me?'

'I can't promise that,' said Hermione, the corners of her mouth twitching. 'Not after that stunt you pulled last night.'

'Then I'm afraid I cant let you in,' said Harry.

'Stop being so silly,' said Hermione. 'Let me in.'

'Nope, not till you promise.'

'Harry, this is childish.'

'I'm scared of you, Hermione,' Harry teased. 'You're pretty powerful, you know, and who knows what you might do when you're this angry. I could be left as something very nasty.'

'You will be if you don't let me in,' said Hermione. 'I'll wait here till you have to leave for food if I have to.'

'I'm well stocked in here so I hope you've brought a blanket.'

'Please, Harry.'

Harry buckled and invited Hermione in. She hadn't even got over the threshold before she threw herself at him. However, instead of the slap Harry had been expecting Hermione had thrown her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug and Harry could almost feel the relief lifting from Hermione. He thought she would start crying but her voice was relaxed when she spoke.

'Do I need to tell you how worried I've been?' she said into his shoulder. 'I waited for an hour and a half when I knew you weren't at the Burrow for you to come back. I guessed you weren't going to after that and I hoped you'd be here. How many times have I got to tell you to let me know where you are?'

'You were asleep,' said Harry. 'And I did tell you what I was going to do. Speaking of which, why are you here? I thought I told you I didn't want you to come with me?'

'And I _know_ I've told you a million times I'm with you wherever you go.'

Harry broke the hug with Hermione and led her towards the kitchen. He sat down as Hermione filled the kettle and lit the stove.

'Have you eaten?' she asked briskly.

'Not this morning,' said Harry.

'You're useless, aren't you?' said Hermione, clicking her tongue. 'How do you plan to look after yourself when you get older?'

'Well, I'll just have to keep you around' said Harry smirking as Hermione put on a pan to cook some eggs.

'Pass me the bread, Harry,' said Hermione smiling back coyly.

Harry watched her slicing the bread and got up to lit the grill.

'Don't tell me you actually know how to use one of those?' said Hemione sardonically.

'I was the Dursley's slave for eleven years,' said Harry. 'I picked up a few things.'

'Oh, I forgot, sorry,' said Hermione solemnly.

'It's okay, it was ages ago,' said Harry.

'It isn't okay,' said Hermione dropping eggs into the water. 'It isn't okay at all. You've had so much bad done to you, so many people have been horrible to you and your life has been so hard that I don't think its okay in any way.'

'Bloody hell, Hermione, you sound like you're writing a Greek tragedy about me.

'Don't joke, Harry, I'm serious. Doesn't it bother you how hard you've had it?'

'Sometimes,' said Harry truthfully. 'But I can't do anything about it. And besides, things aren't that bad. I've got you making me breakfast, haven't I? What more could I want?'

'That's what I love about you, Harry,' said Hermione. 'No matter what happens you always seem to look ahead and make something positive out of it.'

'Is the same me we're talking about,' said Harry. 'Or have I got a twin I never knew about?'

'It's true. You've had more bad things happen in seventeen years than anyone should have to endure in two lifetimes. But you still manage to deal with it, still focus on what you have to do and still find time to make light of it. I'm so proud of you, you know?'

'Aww don't, I'm welling up,' joked Harry, who was again feeling the room heating up.

Hermione suddenly hugged Harry again and it was a good few minutes before she let him go and went back to cooking.

'What was that for?' asked Harry.

'Do I need a reason?' Hermione replied. 'Just sit down, Harry. But get some cutlery before you do.'

Harry obeyed and in no time at all Hermione was spooning eggs, toast and bacon onto the plate she's put in front of him. She served herself and sat down next to him.

'This is good, Hermione,' said Harry.

'Why do you sound so surprised? Didn't you think I could cook?'

'Honestly? No.'

Hermione laughed.

'I always helped my mum out at home,' Hermione explained. 'Plus my nan always had cookbooks around and you know I'll read just about anything.'

'Yeah,' Harry agreed, nodding vigorously. 'Anyone who can read _Hogwarts: A History _a hundred and twelve times must find a cookbook practically entertaining.'

Hermione laughed again. 'Hark who can talk! How many times can you possibly read _Flying with the Cannons_?'

'It's a good book.'

'I don't doubt it, but really – how many times can you read about _Ron's_ favourite Quidditch team?'

'What do you mean by that?'

'Nothing insulting,' said Hermione in an almost bored voice. 'It's just that – well, Ron supports the Cannon's. They're his team, have been since he got into the game. But why are they yours, if they are? Have you ever seen them play? Do you feel some sort of affinity with them? Or is it to do with the fact that Ron likes them and they're the only team you know?'

'They are not the only team I know,' said Harry indignantly.

'Oh, really?' said Hermione. 'Name me another one.'

'Er, ooh – the Holyhead Harpies! Ha!'

'Not really difficult considering Slughorn's been going on about Gwenog Jones all tear, but I'll give you it. Another.'

'Um…those, er, Tornados ones.'

'What? Surely you don't mean the team _Cho_ liked? Not the team your first love followed? I can't believe you remember _them_!'

'Ho ho,' said Harry.

'Come on, another,' pressed Hermione. 'Or how about the winner of the league last year? Perhaps the top scorer? Name me the England Quidditch team. Who are the best Eurpoean team?'

'Ok ok, is there a point here?' asked Harry, exasperated.

'I'm just not sure you _like_ Quidditch that much,' said Hermione.

'Is that a joke?'

'I'm serious. Okay, you love playing at Hogwarts but apart from that you know very little about the game. You don't support a team, don't follow the national side, don't read about the sport in the _Prophet_. Would you really call yourself a fan?'

Harry hadn't ever considered it like this before. But now that he did give it some thought he had to say Hermione was right.

'Well…no, probably not. But what's this got to do with cookbooks?'

'Oh, nothing at all. I just wanted to beat you in an argument. It isn't good for you to get too big headed, Chosen One.'

Hermione smirked at him again and they continued their debate on whether he actually deserved to be called the Chosen One for quite a while. It was only after they had cleaned away their plates that Hermione did something unexpected, and well received by Harry.

'So, are you going to tell me your plans for finding this helmet thing you think is a Horcrux?'

'What? You actually believe me now?' said Harry rather stunned.

'I've been thinking about what you said and you're right, it doesn't matter what I believe, it's what you think that's important. And you believe in this, so, come on, any thoughts?'

Harry, so relieved to have someone to share this weight with, began talking. He filled Hermione in on all that had led him to this theory and then told her of Lupin's visit that very morning and his enthusiasm for Harry's plan. This, more than anything, seemed to sway Hermione's opinion.

'So Lupin had heard of this thing?' she asked.

'Yeah. Like I said, its famous.'

'It's not a place to start, his last wherabouts before Hogwarts,' said Hermione thinking. 'And I know some good books on that. Can you get us in to Hogwarts?'

'What? Now?'

'No time like the present,' said Hermione happily. 'See if you actually have some brains above that pretty little face of yours.'

'Flattery is an art, Hermione,' said Harry. 'And I don't think you'd pass it in an O.W.L.'

Hermione smiled. 'Come on. The longer we sit here the more time we're wasting.'

'Shouldn't we go and get Ron?'

'He was still snoring away when I left,' said Hermione with a trace of bitterness. 'Besides, I think we can both agree that research isn't his strong point, don't you?'

Harry laughed and got up, leading the way outside. Hermione followed behind and they made their way to a little alley running between the houses. It was high and dark and well concealed from prying eyes.

'On three?' Harry asked. Hermione nodded. 'One – two –'

Hermione gave him a little wink and Disapparated. _I guess we're even, then, _Harry thought to himself as he, too, span on the spot and disappeared.


	5. No Work, No Play

Chapter 6 – No Work, No Play.

The Hogwarts library was never the most welcoming of places during term time. Chilly and serene with an air of stillness created by the prowling Madam Pince, the place was usually about as much fun as History of Magic. But there was something different about it in these circumstances. Harry was starting to appreciate the veritable mine of knowledge and information here, all of which was available without having to worry about the strict Librarian screeching at you for bending the pages of an ancient book.

Harry and Hermione had been sat there for several hours. Dobby had been overjoyed to learn that Harry had come to Hogwarts for the day and he and the other house elves bustled about to and fro bringing them everything they could want. They brought a tray of coffee, pumpkin juice and a plate of sweet cakes barely ten minutes after they had arrived. Though Hermione looked shocked and pityingly at the elves (Harry thought he could see the words SPEW etched across her eyes) she found that either she fancied a cup of coffee or all the research they had to do demanded it and so she accepted their service. They, to an elf, bowed to the floor when they left, some so shocked that Hermione had said 'thank you' that they squeaked loudly and banged their long snouts against the hard floor.

Hermione only complained about the elf-enslavement for a few minutes, much to Harry's relief. The thought of her getting distracted and using the extra library time to look up new ways of freeing house-elves would, Harry decided, be a colossal waste of time. It wasn't long, however, before Hermione turned back to her task and had so many books tottering in front of her that Harry could only just see her eyes. She seemed to think being in the library without Madam Pince was wrong and chastised Harry for using a Summoning Charm to pull books down from a shelf.

'Harry, that is so irresponsible,' she hissed as _Wizarding Archaeology_ flew down from the fourth shelf behind them, nudging the two books either side precariously to the edge of the shelf.

'Oh, relax. Hermione,' said Harry. 'You're too wound up in here. You should try it, you might find it quite liberating.'

'Ho ho, very funny.'

'Who's joking? Go on, I dare you.'

A cheeky sort of grin crept into the corners of Hermione's eyes, a look Harry had found strangely disarming several times recently. She seemed to be debating it, much as though someone was considering how naughty it would be to have a second cream cake. Slowly, as though a fierce battle were raging in her mind, she drew her wand and pointed it.

'_Accio Hogwarts: A History!'_

The book flew to her, much more cleanly, Harry noticed, than his had. Hermione looked around guiltily as though expecting to be rapped around the head by a lurking Madam Pince at any moment.

'Do I have to remind you again that you can't Apparate inside the walls of Hogwarts?' Harry said sardonically. 'If you read that book you'd know that.'

Hermione took a swipe at Harry with the heavy book and he backed away in his chair to avoid it. She had another go; Harry chuckling at her efforts must have incensed her. She giggled as he dodged another blow then backed away as the book came back at him. The problem was he'd forgotten that he was already leaning his chair back onto two legs. As he swerved to avoid Hermione's attempt to clobber him the chair toppled back and Harry hit the floor. Hermione's giggles stopped immediately.

'Oh Harry!' Hermione yelped. 'I'm so sorry! I didn't mean that!'

Harry barely heard her. He was too busy laughing. 'That's what I get for making fun of you, I suppose. Help me up, will you?'

Harry grabbed Hermione's outstretched hand and she pulled him to his feet. The momentum carried him right up to her face and he caught his balance just before he hit her. They stood stock still for a couple of seconds and in that time Harry experienced two of the most bizarre and unsettling experiences of his life. They both happened in a fraction of a second when he caught Hermione's eye. The first was a chill, a nerve-jangling shiver, which shot through every part of his body and tickled his skin. The second was an electric charge which ignited along his old scar. It was this feeling which unsettled him the most as it was the only time he'd felt anything there apart from the burning pain associated with Lord Voldemort.

Shaking off a creeping awkwardness Harry sat down and pulled the nearest book towards him. Hermione stayed standing for a few moments longer and Harry wondered what she was thinking. She soon sat down and buried her nose in a book. After some minutes during which neither spoke, Harry got up to go to the bathroom. Once inside he looked in the mirror and considered his startled reflection.

What had that been, he thought. His scar looked normal; whatever had surged along it certainly hadn't changed its appearance. But why would his scar hurt when looking at Hermione? A terrible thought came to him – was she possessed? Had Voldemort somehow managed to get to her? Then he considered the event again and dispelled these thoughts; when he'd looked at Hermione his scar _hadn't_ hurt. It had done something but it wasn't painful. Harry sighed in relief.

That didn't solve the other puzzles though. Something had happened there and Harry didn't know what to make of it. Only one part of it was certain – Hermione had felt it too. Whatever it was that had thrown him for a loop had done the same to her. She'd stayed where she was when he sat down, perhaps to think over it as he was now. What did it mean? Harry chuckled to himself; the one person he'd want to ask for advice on something like this would have been Hermione but the thought of bringing it up with her now was quite unnerving. He decided to just push it from his mind and ignore it.

Returning to the library with his determination to press on at the front of his mind, Harry hurried back to his seat. He saw Hermione glance from the corners of her eyes as he returned but she didn't look up at him. Harry decided to break the ice before it formed.

'A-any luck?' he asked.

'Oh! No, not really,' she said, he voice higher than usual. 'You've been gone long. I thought you'd fallen in, or something.'

'Oh, was I?' said Harry, finding his voice oddly different also. 'Oh, it was Peeves, you know. He always likes playing jokes on me and I had him all to myself on the way back.'

'Ah, I thought it might be something like that,' said Hermione. There was an odd hint of smile at the corners of her eyes and mouth, as though she'd been expecting him to use an excuse like Peeves. This did little to settle Harry who was suffering a strange feeling of exposure in the soft light of the library.

The rest of the day was a bit of a waste of time. Harry was reading book after book and not really taking any of it in. Words swam before his eyes making unrecognisable patterns. Not only that but he suspected Hermione was having just as little success. Several times he chanced a glance at her only to find her eyes glazed, much unlike the focused reading gaze he was so used to seeing in her face. One time he thought he saw her catching him looking at her and pulled his eyes away quickly, but not before he saw her smile to herself.

It was when Harry found himself reading _Muggle Glues and Electricity Explained_ that he realised the futility of the situation. He slammed the book shut and gathered the other dusty volumes nearby to return to the shelves.

'Are we stopping?' said Hermione, looking up.

'Yeah, my head's turned to clay,' Harry said.

'Mine too,' Hermione replied. 'Perhaps we should take a few of these books with us, just in case we get a brainwave.'

'Should we leave a note?'

'No-one's going to be here for a couple of weeks. That's plenty of time to bring them back before anyone knows they're gone.'

'Okay but you pick the books,' said Harry.

Hermione busied herself choosing a few thick books and piled them on the desk as Harry played basketball with bits of scrap parchment and the wastepaper bin. When he heard Hermione magicking the books into thin air he knew it was time to go and swept the rest of the discarded parchment into the bin with one wave of his wand.

'Hey, Harry, that's really good!' said Hermione. 'You really have got the hang of non-verbals now.'

'Yeah, I've spent enough time on them,' said Harry. 'I was just going to vanish them completely but it was too much effort.'

They left the library discussing Harry's advancement in more difficult magic. Hermione already knew that he was getting better at Legillimency as she had helped him practice at the Burrow but she was impressed to learn about all the new defensive spells he'd learned and how just a bit of effort had wrought a general improvement in all areas of his magic.

'I always told you that all you needed was to try a bit harder,' said Hermione. 'You've got all the power in the world but you've always lacked a bit of focus. You're easily the most powerful wizard in our year.'

'Er, I don't think that's right,' said Harry reddening.

'Why not?'

'Um, have you forgotten yourself?' said Harry. 'You're miles better than I could ever be.'

'Me?' Hermione said, turning a shade of scarlet herself. 'Well, I won't deny that I'm _good_ but half of that is hard work. I bet that if you were buried in books as much as I was and spent all your time working like I do that you'd be above me in all our subjects. But that'd just make you too dull and you'd never be able to beat Voldemort. Millions of hours of reading would make you too predictable.'

'But I don't think you're dull and predictable,' Harry said. 'And all that work and reading means you know tons more than me. How many exams did you beat me in again? All but one, I think.'

'What have exams got to do with power?' said Hermione. 'Some people just don't do well in an exam situation. But you've beaten me in every important test. I'd have never had the nerve to stand up to Voldemort, and you didn't get knocked down when we went to the Ministry of Magic, you went looking for Voldemort again. I failed y- … failed there.'

Hermione looked away and Harry swallowed hard. This was the first time she had spoken about that fateful night. Harry had often felt such guilt at the whole thing that he banished it from his mind. Not only was he ashamed of nearly getting all his friends killed he was also wracked with guilt for ignoring what they went through and focusing only on his own grief over Sirius. Now, here was Hermione bringing it up at last.

'I've never said sorry for that,' Harry said quietly. To his surprise, Hermione stopped walking and turned to face him. Harry couldn't meet her eye and looked towards Hagrid's cabin over her shoulder.

'What?' said Hermione briskly.

'What?' Harry repeated.

'What do you mean 'you've never said sorry'?'

'Which part don't you understand?' asked Harry.

'Harry – Harry, look at me,' said Hermione firmly. 'Why do you think you have to say sorry?'

Harry considered his next words carefully. 'Well, I nearly got you killed – all of you,' he added swiftly. 'If that doesn't merit an apology I don't know what does. You – you don't know what it was like.'

'What, _what_ was like?'

'When… when I thought you'd died.'

Harry turned away from her. He knew she was going to ask for an explanation and he felt he couldn't look at her if he had to give one. Then it came.

'Harry?' Her tone did all the asking.

'When I saw it happen it was kind of in slow motion,' Harry began. 'I can still see it now; the purple flame, you falling to the ground, me cursing the Death Eater before I could even think what was going on. The worst part was the little 'oh' you gave as it hit you. It cut to me like you wouldn't believe. The thoughts that went through my head still haunt my dreams, not that I had much sense at the time. I couldn't think, ask Neville, he was there. If one of the Death Eaters had come in then I couldn't have fought them off, I wouldn't have had the will. If you'd had died I would have followed you soon from the guilt.'

Harry heard a little sob and turned to see silent tears streaming down Hermione's face. Then, without warning, she threw her arms around him and hugged him so hard he struggled to breathe. He hugged her back, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from him. It was a while before either spoke.

'Oh, Harry, I can't believe you,' said Hermione eventually. 'Why didn't you ever say anything? Why don't you ever talk to me?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'I thought you blamed me for it. I thought that was why you were being so weird with me last year. There didn't seem much point talking to you about it when I thought you were so angry with me because of it.'

Hermione let out another impassioned groan and Harry thought this was probably the wrong thing to have said. Unsure of what to do he just waited for Hermione to speak again, half wondering how long they would be stood hugging in the Hogwarts grounds before this happened.

Hermione did disengage herself after a while. She set to wiping her eyes, muttering things to herself like 'pull yourself together' and trying to regain her composure. After watching her like this for a few minutes Harry thought he should say something.

'Are you alright?' he asked. The words felt dumb before they'd even left his mouth.

'No,' said Hermione. 'I think I'm quite far from alright.'

'Anything I can do?'

Hermione smiled. 'Stop being such a recluse, maybe? It might stop misunderstanding like this.'

'Like what?'

'I thought you were being funny with _me_ because of what happened at the Ministry,' said Hermione.

'Um, why would that be, exactly?' asked Harry, confused.

'I thought that you were angry at me that … that I'd failed you. I know I was.'

Harry just stared at her, goggled actually. 'Hermione…' Harry didn't know what to say to this. Hermione took over.

'I know you were angry at the end of the year, I didn't know what to say to you,' she said. 'I wanted to help you but you were pushing everyone away. I thought you were mad at me for being too weak to fight until the end. I thought you might b…blame me for not being able to help Sirius.'

'Hermione!' Harry cried. 'Why would you think that? You were brilliant. You knew it was a trap by Voldemort and I was too pig-headed to listen to you. Then you got rid of Umbridge and you flew the Thestrals even though you don't like it. You were amazing. The best fighter I had, why do you think I pulled you to me when we got away from the Death Eaters the first time? Of all the people there I wanted you to be at my side. It was me that failed you, not the other way around. I wasn't good enough for you; wasn't good enough to work out that trap, not good enough to keep you all from harm, not good enough to save… I can't believe you blamed yourself for those things. It was my fault. I feel awful now.'

'Oh, don't!' Hermione pleaded. 'I don't want to make you feel bad. Oh dear, I've never been very good at this sort of thing.'

'Look, before we get too emotional lets just make up and move on,' said Harry. 'I'm sorry, really sorry, that you got hurt at the Ministry. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you in the first place – you're advice had never gotten me in trouble before so I should have remembered that then. You don't have to be sorry about anything because you did nothing wrong. I wasn't mad at you, I was mad at me. And Dumbledore a little, but lets forget that now. Let's shake hands and get over it.'

'Harry, when has a handshake ever been good enough for us?' Hermione asked, and then drew Harry into another hug. This one wasn't the bone-shattering bear hugs he was used to from her. This one was tender and intimate and then came the third shocking feeling Harry had experienced that day. For a second, a little longer than the feelings in the library, Harry felt a surge of jealously. Jealousy of Ron. He broke the hug quickly.

'Ok, that's done,' he said awkwardly. 'Let's go. Everyone will be wondering where you've got to.'

They walked out of the grounds and stopped outside, preparing to Apparate.

'What are you going to tell them?' Harry asked.

'Tell who?' Hermione replied.

'Ron and the others, when you get back to the Burrow,' said Harry. 'Where are you going to tell them you've been?'

'I'm not going back to the Burrow.'

'Then where are you going?'

'I'm coming with you to Grimmauld Place,' said Hermione simply.

'No, you're not,' said Harry. 'I don't think that's a good idea at all.'

'Why not?' asked Hermione.

'Where should I start?' said Harry incredulously. 'Firstly, everyone at the Burrow will be worrying about you. Secondly, I don't think Ron would be too impressed with you. Thirdly, Grimmauld Place is horrible- '

'Which is why you shouldn't be there alone,' Hermione interrupted. 'And points one and two apply to you as well.'

'I don't think Ron would have the same reaction to me staying at Grimmauld Place as he would to you.'

'Why not?'

'Hermione, seriously!' said Harry. 'You and me, alone, in an empty house. You think Ron would be pleased with that, do you? You are his girlfriend, in case you've forgotten.'

'And you're his best friend. Surely you don't think he'd think anything would happen?'

'This is Ron we're talking about,' said Harry. 'Suspicion and jealousy are his middle names.'

'Ron Suspicion Jealousy Weasley,' said Hermione. 'What were his mother and father thinking?'

'Hermione, I'm being serious,' said Harry sternly. 'I don't think this is a good idea.'

'Look, Harry, there is absolutely no way I'm letting you stay in that house alone, so don't argue. If Ron wants to be jealous then let him be jealous. There are more important things right now. I'm staying with you and that's final.'

'Fine,' said Harry admitting defeat. He smirked as he added, 'But no funny business!'

'No promises, Harry,' said Hermione suppressing a giggle.

They both Disapparated, reappearing outside Grimmauld Place. Harry led the way into the house, Hermione close behind. They made their way into the living room on the first floor where the books from Hogwarts were already neatly stacked. The sight of them jerked Harry into the realisation that Hermione had planned to return here all the time. He felt uneasy; for the first time since he'd known Hermione he didn't know what to expect from her. One thing was for sure, he didn't like the uncertainty one little bit.


	6. Horcrux Number Four

Disclaimer: I own the Harry Potter name and related trademarks. Unfortunately i dont own the merchandise rights, or I'd be blowing my nose on £20 notes. I have to sack me agent.

A/N: Thanks to those of you who've reviewed. Your feedback is treasured. One day I will get accepted as an author on Portkey and will have many like-minded reviewers. In the meantime, long live the HMS Harmony.

Chapter 6: Horcrux Number Four

Harry awoke the next morning to find Hermione's bed empty. Neither had fancied the idea of sleeping in the bedrooms, cold and draughty despite the summer weather. Instead, Hermione did a clever piece of magic to move two of the mattresses into the living room and enchanted them to add a little more fluffiness to them. She seemed to love her alterations but after Harry was enveloped by his mattress he asked Hermione to give him something a little more sensible to sleep on.

They had stayed up late into the night, talking mostly about what sort of things the Horcruxes might be and what they would choose as theirs if they decided to go evil and on a wizard jihad. They cooked themselves a very basic dinner made up of a variety of things in the pantry, which Harry discovered hadn't been as well stocked as he'd first thought. They finally went to sleep at some early hour discussing Dumbledore's theory that love would be the thing that killed Voldemort, and Harry's theory that Dumbledore should have put his faith in a good old fashioned club to do the job.

Waking to find Hermione's bed empty, Harry assumed she was downstairs cleaning the plates from last night or perhaps even preparing a surprise breakfast for him (Harry had noticed how domesticated Hermione was). Getting up Harry cast a glimpse at his unmade bed and made a note to tidy it later. When raised voices from the hall met his ears all thoughts of doing chores to achieve domestic felicity with Hermione left him. Moving to the door he edged it open and listened.

A blazing row was in full flow in the hall downstairs. One voice was Hermione's but the other, and more angry, voice belonged to Ron. Harry cringed. He tiptoed to the top of the stairs, careful to keep himself out of view. Ron was livid, yelling and shouting and it sounded like he was still outside. Harry remembered the protective charm on the house and realised how the situation must seem to Ron. Putting his ear over the banister, Harry listened in.

'Ron, you've got this all wrong,' Hermione was saying. Her tone suggested she had already said this several times.

'I don't think so!' Ron yelled. 'I think it looks pretty clear what's going on here.'

'Of course, and as usual you've put two and two together and come up with five. You really are being ridiculous, Ron.'

'Yeah, that's right,' Ron spat. 'Always stupid, aren't I? Stupid, dumb Ron who doesn't matter. Well, not this time – I'm on to your game.'

'There is no game!' Hermione protested.

'You must think I'm a total idiot!'

'You're certainly acting like one.'

'Oh, so now I'm an idiot, too?' said Ron.

'I don't believe we are even having this discussion,' said Hermione. 'I didn't think you'd be like this. Harry said you might, but I thought you would be more mature.'

'Oh I bet he did,' said Ron acidly. 'I bet you've done lots of _talking_ holed up here together.'

'Ron – we are not _holed up,'_ said Hermione.

'Then what do you call this?' Harry heard the fizz of Ron touching the magical barrier.

'I've told you twice that Dumbledore put that enchantment on the house.'

'A likely story.'

'Only Harry can invite you in. If he doesn't you cant enter. Not even Voldemort could get in. Oh, for _Merlin's_ sake, Ron, stop cringing.'

'So, I'm a coward too, eh? I'm wondering why you went out with me at all.'

'You know, I'm starting to think the same thing.'

There was a pause, a silence in which Harry felt the strongest urge to throw himself over the banister and stop what he knew was going to happen next. Something quite out of his conscious control kept him rooted to the spot.

'W-what does that mean?' Ron asked, his voice much different. Hermione, though, was as steely as ever.

'What do you think it means?' said Hermione. 'Is this what your idea of a relationship is? I've had closer bonds with friends than we have right now.'

'Oh, and I suppose that friend is Harry, is it?' said Ron, angering again. 'Typical, isn't it? The first thing I get that Harry doesn't have and even that prefers him to me.'

At the top of the stairs Harry tried to catch a groan at Ron's lack of tact. He failed, though, and held his breath to see if he was heard. Nothing happened and Harry sighed in relief. He shook his head at Ron's choosing the exact wrong thing to say.

'So that's what I am to you?' Hermione asked. 'A thing? A _that_? A trophy to shove in Harry's face and say, "Look at what I've got that you don't?"'

'No, that's not what I - '

'Oh, I think it's perfectly clear what you meant, Ron. You couldn't have made yourself plainer. I don't know what I was thinking. You haven't been brewing Amortentia, have you? Oh, of course not, you wouldn't have the faintest clue where to start. You haven't been stealing any of Ginny's, have you? I know she's been testing them on the public for Fred and George's joke shop.'

Harry caught his breath again. No, she wouldn't have…would she?

'I haven't been using any love potions!' Ron said sounding scandalised.

'Ah well, I just thought you might,' said Hermione sniffily. 'Just answer me one thing – did you ever want to go out with me for that reason, or was it always to get one over on Harry?'

'Oh course I liked you, I've told you that,' said Ron. 'But I should've known that I was never going to be enough for you. Just look how you've shacked up with Harry the first chance you got.'

'Shacked up!' Hermione laughed. 'Hardly.'

'Well you're clearly Harry's girl through and through, seeing as how you abandoned me for him. I am supposed to be your boyfriend and I should have had you with me.'

'And I should have had more self-respect than to let you treat me like your property,' said Hermione. 'I may be a trophy to you but this is on prize you are never going to _have, _in any way.'

'And Harry will, I suppose?'

Harry could imagine the look on Hermione's face but nothing prepared him for the next answer.

'Well its like you said – I'm Harry's girl through and through. And whatever he needs me for I'll do it for him…_anything._'

'Hmph! I always knew you were a bit of a slapper on the ins -'

SLAM! The door smashed shut, shaking the whole house. Harry got up quickly and made to tiptoe across the landing and back to the living room in case Hermione came storming up in a rage. As it turned out, Harry hadn't been as stealthy as he'd thought.

'You can come down now, Harry,' Hermione called up the stairs. Harry froze at being caught out, but was relieved to hear that she didn't sound angry. This, he supposed, was because of the upset she must be feeling. The thought of her being upset was enough to make him traipse guiltily downstairs, if only to try and offer some words of comfort.

'Sorry,' he mumbled as he faced her at the foot of the stairs.

'How much did you hear?' she asked in a business-like manner.

'Quite a bit,' said Harry honestly.

'I hope we didn't wake you.'

'What? I think there are more pressing issues than if you woke me up, Hermione.'

'Are there?' she asked.

'Are you okay?' said Harry, bemused by her calmness. 'Do you want to sit down?'

'No, Harry, I'm fine,' said Hermione. 'Does that sound awful?'

'It sounds weird,' said Harry. 'Are you – I mean, is it over? You and Ron, I mean.'

'Yes, yes I think so,' said Hermione simply. 'What does that say about it?'

'Not much.'

'The truth is that I could see we were starting to go nowhere,' said Hermione. 'It wasn't like at the beginning.'

'You'd only been together a month, if that!'

'Precisely, not exactly a good omen, is it? The funny thing is, I'm not that upset. I think that tells its own story.'

Harry stood awkwardly, not quite sure what to say next.

'You were right, Harry,' said Hermione. 'You knew how he'd react. I didn't see it.'

'Oh, come on,' said Harry. 'You must have known he'd be a little miffed at you, at us.'

'That was more than a little,' said Hermione.

'I don't like being the cause of your break-up,' Harry blurted out. 'I don't want to be the one who's come between you. Its makes us look really bad; I bet lost of people will think like Ron and tongues will wag.'

'Oh hang them, let them talk,' said Hermione.

'But I know how much those Rita Skeeter articles annoyed you; you remember, the me-you-Krum love triangle. I don't want you upset again.'

Hermione gave him an odd sort of look that Harry had never been given by her before; he didn't know how to read it.

'I'll just have to live with it, wont I?' said Hermione chirpily. 'I meant what I said to Ron – I'm your girl through and through. I'm at your side when you need me, and you need me now. So I'm staying where I am. If that means a few rumours then fine. We've been through more than that, and that sort of thing, before. I'm sure we'll get through it again.'

Harry felt an unsettling stirring in his stomach and wanted to bat it away.

'Are you ok? Feeling alright?' said Hermione noticing Harry touch his abdomen.

'What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit peckish,' Harry lied.

'Then its time for breakfast,' said Hermione brightly. 'And if I remember correctly it's your turn to cook.'

Hermione swept away, casting Harry another odd glance over her shoulder. Words like 'flirty' 'sultry' and 'seductive' were running through his head. These were words he had never thought of in relation to Hermione and it felt alien to have them paired together. Despite this unfamiliar feeling, Harry wasn't experiencing revulsion at it. It was almost more unsettling that he found these new sensations quite enjoyable.

After breakfast (which Hermione awarded Harry an 'exceed expectations' for) they hit the books hard. The renewed vigour offered just as little success as the day before. There were vague and patchy references to the Gryffindor armour in many books, but mostly just as part of poetry or retold folk tales. Harry was the first to feel the frustration.

'How can this be so hard!' he cried, throwing a book down. 'If you were an old wizard and you couldn't fight anymore, where would you leave your suit of armour?'

'How many wizards do you know that actually wear armour, Harry?' said Hermione fairly.

'I agree that its gone out of fashion, but that isn't the point right now.'

'Gone out of fashion?' Hermione laughed. 'I don't think they were ever in fashion!'

'They must have been,' said Harry. 'Have you seen how many suits of armour we have at Hogwarts…'

Harry paused, his words hanging in the air. He and Hermione looked at each other, the thought coming to them both at the same time.

'Harry – you don't think - '

'It can't be…it can't be that simple.'

'Harry, Harry it might be,' said Hermione suddenly excited. 'I don't know, I cant be sure.'

'Of what?'

'Harry, there _aren't _that many suits of armour at Hogwarts,' said Hermione. 'There are a few down at the dungeons, and a couple outside the Transfiguration rooms and that one on the West staircase under that painting of Reeking Ruprict of Rochdale. But there is only one more. If I'm right its in an older style than the others. I bet I don't have to tell you where it is.'

'At the top of the staircase to Gryffindor Tower!' said Harry. 'I really don't believe this. I amaze myself at my own stupidity sometimes. Why didn't I think of the school?'

'You just did,' said Hermione placatingly. 'Come on, lets go.'

Harry had his cloak on in a flash. He dashed after Hermione who was already on the way downstairs. She halted at the door.

'I hope Ron isn't still outside,' she said.

'I doubt he is,' said Harry. 'He wouldn't have waited this long.'

'I was going to,' said Hermione, blushing a bit, 'when you weren't going to let me in. I thought you gave in a bit easily there, Harry.'

'I tried to be forceful, but I couldn't,' said Harry. 'You must have this special magic over me. I could never say no to you for very long.'

'I'll keep that in mind,' she said, blushing furiously now. She yanked open the door and skipped into the morning.

The bright light dazzled Harry as he followed Hermione outside. Shielding his eyes he darted after the silhouette in front of him towards the little alley he knew it was heading. The sun blinded Harry so much that he hadn't properly judged how far Hermione was ahead of him, skidding into her as she stopped abruptly.

'Now, now, Harry,' she teased. 'I am on the rebound, you know.'

Harry chortled. 'Just Apparate will you?'

'Fancy trying side-along Apparition?' she joked.

'I'll 'side-along' you in a minute!' said Harry.

'Maybe later,' said Hermione and with a wink she Disapparated.

Following suit Harry span around, emerging outside the Hogwarts gates, which Hermione was already through. She called back to him to hurry up. Jogging slightly to keep up Harry joined Hermione and they made their way to Hagrid's hut. Apologising for not having the time to have tea, Harry pulled the Hogwarts keys from a nail behind the door and took off again. The heavy lock was hard to turn but a bit of magic from Hermione did the trick and they were vaulting the Main Staircase in no time.

'Wait, Harry, I've got a stitch!' cried Hermione, who had lagged behind.

'You get up here in your own good time,' Harry called back. 'All this Apparating has made you unfit!'

Harry continued on alone. He topped the staircase, turned down a short corridor and was soon facing the Fat Lady's portrait. She was absent at the moment and Harry wondered briefly if she was off drinking so early in the day. Pushing such futile thoughts from his mind he took off down the corridor. It wasn't long before he reached his destination.

Half way along the corridor, lit by shafts of pale light from the high windows, Harry stopped in front of an antique suit of armour. Harry marvelled at how he had never noticed the unique condition of this piece of armour when compared to the shiny suits elsewhere. This was it, he knew it; the Horcrux, a piece of Voldemort's soul standing right before him. How didn't Dumbledore know?

'Is…this…it?' Hermione panted as she joined him.

'Only one way to find out,' said Harry reaching for it.

'Harry!' Hermione yelled as she reached out and snatched his hand from the air.

'What?'

'You can't just grab it,' said Hermione shrilly.

'Why not?'

'Think about it,' she said. 'All of the other objects had self-defence mechanisms. The diary had enough power to let Voldemort control anyone who used it. The ring killed Dumbledore's hand and getting the locket was what weakened him enough to stop his fighting the Death Eaters when he died. These things are dangerous and I don't want you to…well, I just want you to be careful.'

'If it did belong to Gryffindor it will have his name on it, like the sword does,' said Harry. 'I'm just going to look at it.'

Harry had tried to sound calm but he was filled with trepidation as he reached for the helmet. It wouldn't budge. He pulled with all his might, but it didn't move an inch. Harry lit his wand and looked around the armour. He had almost given up when he bent down and looked at the midriff area. There, at the level where a belt would be, were the exquisitely carved letters of Godric Griffindor's name.

'Well, that confirms it,' said Harry. 'Now what?'

'It has to be destroyed,' said Hermione in a whisper.

Harry raised his wand and said a spell. Hermione's call of caution had barely echoed away when Harry's spell hit the suit of armour and flew off its chests, bouncing around the corridor. Harry threw himself at Hermione, knocking her back against the wall and pinning her tightly in place. The spell died away.

'That wasn't bright,' said Hermione slightly breathily. She tilted her head up. 'Harry…'

'Mmmm?'

'Anytime you want to let me go is fine,' she said, still huskily. Harry could feel her shiver against him.

'Oh, what? Sorry…sorry, Hermione,' said Harry, quickly backing away.

'Its okay,' she giggled. 'Just don't do that again.'

'Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't realise how hard I was pressing you into the wall.'

'I-I meant the spell, Harry.'

'Oh, yeah…that was stupid too.'

Hermione was blushing, Harry could tell even in the shadows. His own face was on fire. He turned to consider the suit of armour again.

'I take it there are anti-spell charms on it,' said Hermione thoughtfully, her voice not quite as steady as her words.

'Then how else can we destroy it?' said Harry. 'Melt it down?'

'I think we have to draw the magic out somehow,' said Hermione. 'Ginny wrote in the diary, Dumbledore wore the ring…'

The realisation dawned on Harry as Hermione thought out loud. There was only one thing to do.

'I have to get inside it,' said Harry.

'No, Harry,' said Hermione sounding very frightened. 'Don't you dare. Don't even joke about something like that.'

'It's the only way,' said Harry. 'We can't destroy it by spells and I'd bet 100 Galleons that it has some anti-melt charm too. This is the only way.'

'Harry, no – there has to be some other option.' Hermione was sounding desperate now.

'Look, you've said you're with me whatever, right? Well now's the test. This is what being with me means. You have to trust me, you have to follow me, do what I say without question.'

'Even if it means endangering your life?'

'Hermione, we're fighting Voldemort,' said Harry. 'Everything we do against him threatens our life. I need you with me. Its your choice to stand with me or not.'

Her lip quivered, but she bowed, unable to face the words. Harry turned towards the armour again. He felt the outside and found what he was looking for.

'I knew it,' he said. 'That's why I couldn't pull the helmet off. Its stuck together. The whole thing is one piece, like a death shroud in a tomb. It I unhook this clasp it should open.'

No sooner had the words left his mouth then Harry was stood facing the open armour. The first fears of what he had to do crept in.

'Well, here goes.'

'_Harry!'_ Hermione flung herself at him, hugging him tight. Disentangling himself, Harry stepped forward into the armour and closed it behind him.

Immediately he heard a voice in his mind.

'Welcome, Harry Potter.' The voice was deep and smooth.

'Is this Gryffindor?' said Harry.

'Of a fashion,' replied the voice. 'What is your task, brave one?'

'I have to destroy you,' said Harry. 'The suit of armour is a Horcrux of the most evil wizard alive. It must be destroyed, but I don't know how.'

'Tis a noble task, young one,' said the voice. 'But the destruction of this armour will not be simple.'

'I know that,' said Harry. 'But how can I do it?'

'It can be done but it requires those stout of heart and true to themselves. The spirit inside this metal can be passed on to you, but you must be destroyed.'

'That cant be the only way!' said Harry.

'Let me clarify; the spirit can be conferred onto you but when you leave you will exhibit either extremely violent or extremely psychologically different tendencies to the norm. You need another to destroy that face. It will destroy the armour and return you to your former self.'

Harry's heart leapt. He called out to Hermione. 'Hermione, listen and listen carefully…'

He explained the message of the voice and told Hermione she would have to do the other side.

'What does that mean, Harry?' said Hermione. 'Does that mean I have to fight you? Hurt you?'

'Probably,' said Harry. 'You have to do enough to kill that part of Voldemort's spirit that will inhabit me. I know you can do it.'

'I'm not sure, Harry…'

'You don't have a choice…I'm coming out.'

At the words Harry felt a most uncomfortable sensation settle on his head. It was as though his mind had been pushed out; he was drifting deeper and deeper…

Hermione watched nervously as the armour opened again. Harry sauntered out and stopped a few feet from her. She looked at him apprehensively, expecting the violence to come out straight away.

'Hello, Hermione,' said Harry. His voice sounded like a shadow of itself.

'Harry, is that you?' said Hermione.

'Does it look like me?' He took a step closer and brushed his hand over her face. It sent an icy chill down Hermione's neck. 'Does it _feel_ like me?'

'Harry, what do I do?'

'Whatever you want.' Harry made as if to embrace her but she pulled away.

'Stupefy!' she cried. The spell hit Harry as his eyes glazed. His expression changed.

'I'm sorry, Hermione, I cant give you what you want,' he said suddenly. 'I'm only a Boggart.'

'What?'

'I can't go out with you. I don't think you're at all attractive. Ginny is far sexier, everyone thinks so. You're too much of a bookworm.'

'Riddikulus!'

'That wont work. I thought you were brainy. Must have been cheating on those tests.'

'Stupefy!'

'Still nothing! Spells not strong enough. Just like my affections for you. I cant believe you thought I'd be interested-'

'C- crucio!' Hermione yelled. Harry contorted in pain and Hermione cried. Suddenly, his real voice came through.

'That's it!' he cried through the pain. 'That's what you have to do. Whatever it takes, keep hurting it.'

Then he changed again.

'Hermione, you bitch, I'm going to kill you!'

Harry made for Hermione but she stunned him. He rose again.

'Crucio!'

'Hermione! No! Please! Please make it stop!' Harry cried.

'Harry! I'm sorry,' Hermione sobbed, breaking the curse. Harry went for her again. 'C-ccrucio!'

Harry's body smacked to the floor contorted in unnatural directions. Hermione cried hard at the sight but couldn't stop. Small cuts had appeared on Harry's face and blood was pouring out. Hermione broke the curse and fell back against the wall. Harry rose.

'You have caused me pain, you whore. Now its time to die. I shall tell Ron and Ginny all about how I killed you, and they shall laugh with me. Then they die too! But, you must go first, wench!'

Harry shot at Hermione. Summoning all her emotions, all her love, all her hate for Voldemort she balled it up inside and shot it at Harry charging towards her.

'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

Harry was hit squarely in the chest and flew backwards at least thirty feet down the corridor. He hit the floor with a dull thud where he lay quite still. Throwing her wand aside Hermione raced along the corridor to Harry's limp form. She cradled his head as hot tears began to stream down her face.

Harry had the vague sensation of being on the floor. Cold stone pressed onto his skin where his robes had ridden up over his hips. His head was full of cobwebs, his body weak and aching as though he had run ten marathons whilst being beaten constantly. His head was on something soft and warm and was being caressed. It was an odd blend. Gingerly, he opened his eyes.

'Wah? Where am I?'

'Harry? Harry is that you?' said Hermione's voice, distant and startled.

'Who else is it going to be?' said Harry groggily. 'What happened?'

'You… I mean, I -' she began. 'You don't remember?'

'I remember going into the suit of armour,' said Harry as memories rushed back. 'It said you'd have to face your worst fear or that I would get violent and that you'd have to destroy Voldemort's spirit in me. Did you do it?'

'I, um…_oh, Harry!'_

Hermione pulled Harry's head so hard into her that he was sure she would crush his skull. She was sobbing uncontrollably and Harry could feel the vibrations running through her body. It was then he realised that the warm soft thing his head was resting on was Hermione's lap. He rose up.

'Hermione? What happened?' he asked.

'It was like you said,' she sobbed. 'Worst fears. It was horrible. Much worse than a Boggart. And I had to torture you.'

'What?' said Harry. 'No wonder I feel so bad.'

'I'm so, so sorry, Harry,' said Hermione. 'You told me I had to.'

'And I was right,' said Harry. He moved close and hugged her. 'You were brilliant, I'm sure.'

Hermione hugged him back, sobbing and convulsing at the same time.

'But it's destroyed?' asked Harry.

'Yes,' said Hermione, gesturing at the molten ruin where the armour had once stood. 'But I couldn't do it again. Please, never ask me to again. I couldn't bear it.'

'Just get me home, I'm so weak,' said Harry. 'Call Hagrid, he can carry me.'

Harry was so exhausted he barely finished the sentence. He stayed awake long enough to see Hagrid's hairy face before closing his eyes and blacking out.


	7. Where There's A Will

_Chapter Seven- Where There's A Will..._

Hagrid's tea was foul. Harry suspected it might have had something to do with the gamekeeper's shaking hands as he had added tea leaves to the pot using a trowel rather than a spoon. The water had been piping hot, direct from the roaring fire in the grate, and it was tinged with a strange harshness that Harry thought might have been Firewhiskey. All in all it was probably the worst cup of tea he had ever tasted.

Harry had been at Hagrid's for a day or so. He had been taken there directly from the school as Hagrid would have been unable to enter Grimmauld Place without Harry's permission. He had woken during the night but in pain so great that he couldn't even get up from bed. He had taken a foul potion brewed quickly by Hermione and slept again, feeling slightly better in the morning where an all-over ache had replaced the burning pain in his bones. Hermione was not there to be thanked.

Hagrid told Harry she had left after brewing the potion, not even staying to see him take it. When Harry asked where she had gone and why, he received no answer; Hagrid, it seemed, couldn't find the words to describe it.

'Is she coming back?' Harry had asked.

'I don' know,' said Hagrid. 'She was pretty upset. She was all pale and didn' say much. Jus' made that you're drinking and left. Didn' even say goodbye.'

'That's not like her,' said Harry. 'Did seeing Voldemort as me upset her that much?'

'I don' think it was that, Harry,' said Hagrid. 'It was doin' them curses on ya. She had to hurt ya, nearly kill ya to get him outta ya. Can' ave been easy for her. Poor Hermione, she probably blames herself for how ya are now.'

Harry forced himself to sit up, which was no mean feat in his condition. He downed what was left of the ointment-potion and winced at the foul taste. He hadn't considered the effect on Hermione of what she'd done to destroy the Horcrux. He tried to imagine himself performing the Unforgivable Curses on her, wondering if he'd have been able to do it. His heart panged at the thought.

'How could I do that to her, Hagrid?' said Harry ruefully. 'I shouldn't have asked her to do that. No friend should have to.'

'No normal friend would have,' said Hagrid. 'But what you an' Hermione have got is a bit more special than that, I think.'

'I doubt that anymore,' said Harry, though he warmed at Hagrid's words. 'What have I done?'

'What you had to do,' said Hagrid simply. 'What people like you and Dumbledore always do. The kind of things great men have to – turn death into a fightin' chance to live.'

Harry choked back a lump in his throat. Hagrid was _comparing _him to Dumbledore, a man he looked up to almost like a God? The cabin was feeling hot all of a sudden.

'I have to make it up to her, make her see that it wasn't her fault,' said Harry. 'I hope she'll forgive me.'

'Don' think she blames you, Harry,' said Hagrid who was now peeling potatoes into a huge vat. 'Could be something else.'

'Like what?'

'Hermione's a good girl, always had her heart in the right place. But she had to do them evil curses, and she did 'em. Cant have bin easy for her. Might be she didn't know she had it in her to do them things, and to you an'all. Or maybe she was willing to do 'em because it was you, her mind might be all messed up.'

'I have to get up and go to her,' said Harry pushing the patchwork quilt aside.

'You'll do no such thing,' said Hagrid. 'Hermione said you're to stay here till you're well and I reckon the same. Gotta get fit before you get up.'

Harry knew it was useless to argue. Hagrid was stronger than your average troll and getting away from him was as close to impossible as you could get. And using magic against him was out of the question. Reluctantly, Harry slumped back down to the bed and tried to ignore the growing sensation of guilt building within him.

It was several days before Harry felt strong enough to leave Hagrid's cabin and this was only to walk the grounds nearby for some air. Despite the stiffness and pain Harry still felt he couldn't help but admire the power of Hermione for being able to inflict it. If he ever turned to the Dark side he'd definitely want her as one of his allies. The thought of Hermione stung Harry as much as the pain she'd caused him. She hadn't been back to visit since the night she left and Harry was both concerned and saddened by her absence. He missed her more than he thought was healthy and felt a strange vulnerability in being removed from her for so long.

The Hogwart's grounds were beginning to change now. September was fast approaching and any students who wished to return to Hogwarts for a new term would be doing so soon. Harry felt it with a sad regret that he wouldn't be among them, that the school would no longer be a home and safe haven for him. Without Dumbledore the place wasn't any safer than the average wizard dwelling. Indeed, as a past target for Voldemort it wasn't impossible that he would make an attempt to seize control of the school again, making it perhaps more unsafe than most places.

So it was with a feeling of finality that Harry said goodbye to Hagrid the next day. He impressed himself with his acting skills employed in convincing his first friend in the Wizarding world that he was well enough to leave. It took much more composure to contain his feelings than hide the discomfort he was still in.

'I'm going to go then,' said Harry. 'Thanks…for everything. For all of it.'

'You're talking like this is the last time we're gonna see each other,' said Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes crinkling in a smile.

'Where I'm going, it might well be,' said Harry. Hagrid looked at him.

'Now listen to me, Harry Potter,' he said sternly. 'You go off an' do what you gotta do but you come back. You'd better. I already lost too many good people to that foul bastard and I don't want him having you as well. You finish him, but don't get finished yourself, you hear me?'

'I'll try,' said Harry quietly.

Hagrid stepped up and drew Harry into a lung-busting hug. Despite being a decent height for his age Harry still only reached as far as Hagrid's midriff. He felt a giant teardrop splash onto his forehead and forced himself to pull away.

'I have to go,' he said. 'You take care, Hagrid. If anything happens to me I want you to look after the others. Take them away somewhere safe. If any of us survive I want them safe if I'm gone.'

'Don' say tha, Harry!' said Hagrid through great sobs.

'Promise me, Hagrid.'

Hagrid could only nod. Feeling there was little else to say, Harry left the cabin after scratching Fang around his slobbering chops. Outside the cabin he allowed himself to limp up to the castle gates, abandoning all pretence of being well. He doubted seriously he could concentrate on Apparating home so he summoned one of the school brooms to him. It was a battered Cleansweep Five but it would do. He donned his Invisibility Cloak, which went everywhere with him, and he took off.

Flying this broom was not nearly as satisfying as his own. It didn't respond as rapidly to his commands and the flight was not nearly as smooth and it lacked a little in speed. Still, it did the job. Conspicuous by its absence was the feeling of freedom and euphoria he normally associated with flying. This was sombre and bland, about as energising and exciting as an average bus ride.

It was dark when he touched down outside Grimmauld Place and Harry was stiff from sitting so long on the broom. He was also slightly damp having flown through gathering cloud just over Oxford. Harry vanished the broom and made his way gingerly up the steps and into the house. He realised how hungry he was as he passed the kitchen and decided to put off the hot bath he'd been dreaming of for the past hour or so in favour of some food.

He had just thrown some bacon into a sizzling pan when he jumped as the door opened behind him.

'Harry? What are you doing here?'

'Nice to see you too, Hermione,' said Harry, a smiling. 'You scared me to death!'

As soon as he said this he knew he had done something wrong. A terrified, haunted look spilled into Hermione's eyes and Harry had the feeling it wasn't a new look for her.

'What the hell is Hagrid playing at, letting you go before you were well enough!' she said shrilly. 'I'll kill him!'

'It isn't his fault,' said Harry placatingly. 'I had to get out of there. Any more of his rock cakes and I'd have no teeth left.'

Hermione, it seemed, was in no humour for humour.

'Very funny, Harry,' she snapped. 'You are in no state to be out of bed. You need rest, I was very specific about that to Hagrid. Ooh, he has a lot to answer for.'

'Hermione will you calm down!'

'No I will not,' she said in a voice which suggested she was about as far from calm as humanly achievable. 'And why are you cooking?'

'Um, I'm hungry?' said Harry warily.

'You are?' she said, her tone softening. 'Well, of course you are. Here, let me.'

'No, I'm fine. I can do it.'

'Fine. Don't let me do anything to help you,' she said bitterly. 'Scared I'm going to poison you, are you?'

Harry, as was his way, cottoned on at last. 'Oh, I see. I get it now. Right, lets sort this out now. Will you sit with me?'

Harry beckoned her to a chair at the table, which she sat at reluctantly, as though it was against her better judgement. Harry took a seat next to her and stared into her eyes, contemplating his words. He knew whatever he said next would shape how much effort it would take to fix what he had broken.

'Hermione – I'm sorry.'

She glared at him in disbelief. 'What?'

'I'm sorry,' Harry repeated. 'So, so sorry.'

'F-for what?' she asked, clearly thrown.

'I shouldn't have made you do what you did,' said Harry. 'It was the most evil thing I've ever done. I shouldn't have asked you to perform those curses. You shouldn't have had to go through that. It should have been me.'

'Harry, I -,' Hermione began. 'What do you mean by that?'

'Just that I should have had to perform the curses. I should be the one dealing with this, not you. Physical pain heals easily enough. It's the other kind that's harder to make better. And I made you go through that. If you hate me, I'll understand.'

'Hate you?' she said desperately. 'Why would you think that?'

'Because of what I made you do,' said Harry. 'I couldn't even do those curses properly to Bellatrix Lestrange, to Snape. I made you do them to me. I don't know what I did to make you use them but it must have been bad.'

'W-what? You mean – you mean you don't remember? Remember what you said to me?'

'Did I say anything to you?' said Harry. 'I only remember being in my body once to tell you to keep doing whatever it was that was driving Voldemort from me. Apart from that my mind is a black hole.'

'You said – oh, it doesn't matter. It was him, he did it. Harry, I want you to know I was trying to hurt _it,_ not you. You believe me, don't you?'

'No.'

'What?'

'I don't believe you, but that's the point,' said Harry. 'That's why I knew I could count on you. I knew that you would do whatever it took to win the day. Even if it meant hurting me, even killing me. Normal friends wouldn't have done. I needed someone who was, well…a little more.'

'What does that mean?'

'Hermione,' said Harry, squeezing her hands and leaning in so close he could see her pupils dilating, 'you used Avada Kedavra on me but I didn't die. It can't have been the normal spell or I would have died with the Horcrux. Something you put into the curse kept me alive when the piece of Voldemort was killed. You were the only one who could have done that…for me, anyway.'

'Harry…'

The sizzling of the burning bacon broke the mood. Harry got up quickly and put out the flames with a casual flick of his wand. He found himself shivering and realised he was still in his damp clothes. He turned to Hermione who looked deep in thought and was muttering to herself.

'I'm going to take a bath,' said Harry. The words didn't seem to have registered with Hermione who just sat there. Harry shrugged and left, mounting the stairs with considerable effort.

The warm water of the bath was soothing, as was the herbal relaxants mixed into the bubble bath he had added. The room was filled with the aroma of summer flowers and the spacious tub was brimming with blue and pink bubbles. Harry was glad Ron couldn't see this as he might start worrying about certain personal aspects of Harry's personality.

Slipping into the soapy water Harry was unable to contain a satisfied sigh. He closed his eyes as the relaxants enveloped him, targeting all of his aching body parts. It was at times like this that Harry really loved magic. Content and warm, Harry lay back and enjoyed the soothing sensation. Then there was a knock at the door.

'Harry? Can I come in?'

'No, you can't!' said Harry. 'I'm in the bath. _Hermione!' _She hadn't even waited for an answer before opening the door. 'Do you mind? I'm sort of busy here.'

'Oh, Harry, I wont look,' she said, a sardonic glint in her eyes. 'Besides, you're covered in such pretty bubbles why would I want to look at anything else?'

'Ha ha,' said Harry, covering up his private bits despite the yard or so of thick bubbles shrouding him. 'Is there something you especially wanted to say to me?'

'Just about what you said downstairs,' she replied. 'About how it was only me who could have used Avada Kedavra on you and not killed you. What did you mean by that?'

As usual, Harry felt quite disarmed that Hermione thought his words as worth memorizing as a text book. Or it could have something to do with his being naked and Hermione barely five feet away.

'Just that you have to really hate someone to do the spell properly and that you and me don't have even one bad feeling for each other. Ron has always been a bit jealous of me, I think if he had the power to AK me properly I might have died. But you, well, we're different, aren't we?'

'We are?'

'I think so,' said Harry. 'We've been close for as long as I can remember. It's a different kind of close to what me and Ron have, or used to have. It's what saved me. You hated Voldemort and when you coupled that with what he was making you do to me it was strong enough to make you use the Crucitus Curse and Avada Kedavra. But you had enough good feelings for me to stop you killing me. I think it kept me alive when the Horcrux was destroyed. Dumbledore always told me it was a powerful force but I didn't realise that it could be used in Avada Kedavra. I don't think even Dumbledore knew.'

'What force?' asked Hermione.

'Whatever it is that you feel for me, and I feel for you,' said Harry. 'Friendship, or whatever. You wanted to help me so much that you used it in place of hate, which you normally need for the Killing Curse. You wanted it so much that it worked. I'm starting to see that magic is really all about will; if you want something enough, and you have the emotion to do it, it can be done.'

'You aren't making any sense, Harry.'

'I am to me and that's all that matters right now. I just want you to know you did the right thing. I'm alive, you hurt me but its okay. Don't beat yourself up over it.'

'I don't like that I hurt you,' said Hermione. 'I couldn't do it again.'

'You could, and that's why I need you,' said Harry. 'You're stronger than you think. You never give yourself enough credit unless you see a 112 score at the bottom of anything you do. One day you'll see how amazing you are. You'll have to see things like I do.'

'Y-you think I'm amazing?' said Hermione quietly.

'Absolutely,' said Harry. 'Why wouldn't I?'

'Well, you just – you've never said anything like that to me before.'

'I know,' said Harry. 'I should have, though, and a long time ago.'

Hermione got up and sat next to the bath. Harry could only just make out the outline of her hair through the bubbles. He jumped as something soft but cold touched his arm. Hermione had reached through the bubble wall and found Harry's forearm on the bath rim.

'Her-Hermione,' Harry stuttered. 'What are you doing?'

'Put your arm around me, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Please?'

'But I'll get bubbles on your clothes,' Harry pointed out.

'I don't care about that,' said Hermione. 'Will you do it, please?'

Harry, squinting through the oily haze of bubbles, found Hermione's shoulder and slipped his arm uncertainly around her neck. She rested her head into the crook of his arm and held his hand in her own. She was rubbing the back of his palm with her thumb and Harry could focus on nothing else. Something very odd was happening and Harry had the desire to run away. This was tempered by an even stronger urge to stay where he was and this had nothing to do with his nakedness. He hoped that Hermione couldn't see through the bubbles now that she was this close. But even this urge wasn't as strong as Harry thought it ought to be.

It was probably due to his arm being extended further than it was designed for but Harry found himself inclined to slip to the side of the bath. Blowing the bubble cloud out of the way he soon found himself looking into the bushy expanse of Hermione's hair. The urge to rest his head against hers was intense and the thought quite frightening. Why did he even want to? There was only one way to find out – do it and see what it felt like.

Harry lowered his head till it was almost touching Hermione's; he could feel individual strands of hair tickling his cheek. With a silent breath he eased forward and met the bouncy crown of Hermione's head. She shook with the contact and gave a barely audible 'oh' before pulling Harry's arm tighter around her. They sat like that for several minutes, a period during which Harry was sure he'd had more thoughts in one go than any other time he could recall. Eventually, he had to speak.

'Hermione? What are you thinking?'

'Just things,' she said, sounding as contented as Harry felt.

'Like what?'

'Like what this means,' she said. 'And if it's wrong that I like it so much. And why I didn't think of it before. And about what you said about my Avada Kedavra. And if it means what I think it might…'

'You think too much,' said Harry.

Hermione laughed. 'You're probably right. And I have to think some more so I'll leave you to your bath before I decide I don't want to leave here. I'll see you downstairs when you're done.'

Hermione disentangled herself from Harry and got up. A moment later the door closed and Harry, trying uselessly to decipher his thoughts, was left to wonder just what the hell was happening to him.

Hermione was about as un-Hermione-like as Harry could ever remember her being. She flitted between several different states of mind ranging from guilt at what she'd done every time one of Harry's injuries flared up, to abject euphoria if Harry said anything even remotely nice to her. When Harry had come down to breakfast one morning rubbing his shoulder Hermione had been convinced it was a hangover from her curses and spent the entire morning brewing a healing paste before rubbing it into Harry's shoulder for an hour, all the while scolding herself under her breath. For some reason he couldn't fathom, Harry had neglected to tell her that his shoulder had felt fine for ages. On the other hand he felt that an hour applying the cream was far more than was necessary.

Not that he was complaining. On the contrary, he was positively revelling in the new environment. And it was certainly having an effect on the house. Hermione had bought brightly coloured candles to reflect her good mood and charmed them to be extra bright before putting them all around the house. It almost felt like a normal home before long. Add to this Hermione being at Harry's beck and call doing everything from cleaning his room to making him fattening desserts after dinner. One night she also washed his hair while he was in another soothing bubble bath. Despite all the kisses with Cho and Ginny, Harry decided this was by far the most erotic moment of his life.

He did feel guilty about taking advantage of Hermione this way but there was little he could do. Every time he even suggested doing anything for her she went into cloud cuckoo land and practically skipped to whatever she was doing next. He even jokingly suggested that since she had braved washing his hair that he might have a go at hers. She was so flustered at this, however, that she muttered incoherently and blushed so much that she had to leave the room.

In the future Harry felt that such bliss in life couldn't last. When a letter popped out of the fire into Grimmauld Place one afternoon when Harry was watching Hermione darning bizarre elf balaclavas, it was with a surprising lack of trepidation that he opened it. He lazily glanced over the lines, one eye still on the knitting needles. His curiosity was tweaked however when he read the name of Albus Dumbledore. His attention fixed directly, he read on. It turned out to be a short letter.

_Mr H. Potter_

_& !"£&" ($!_

_London._

Harry smirked as he realised even the mail couldn't reveal the address of the old Order HQ.

_Dear Mr Potter_

_R.E. Last will and Testament of A.P.W.B. Dumbledore._

_Due to the passing of aforementioned person this execution of the will left by him has been engaged upon. Most aspects have been settled but several matters remain outstanding, the most pressing of which regards a quantity of possessions left to yourself. The contents of an address left to alchemical research are to be passed on to you at the earliest possible opportunity. It has been difficult to locate you and only recently have we found a close friend of Mr Dumbledore's, one M. McGonagall, who is aware of your location. The new owners of the address left in the will are anxious to take up residence but cannot do so until the contents are removed. If you could please call into the Ministry of Magic at the earliest opportunity this matter can be resolved. We are located on Level Five, Office of Magical Law, Hereditary and Obituary Department._

_Yours &c._

_Asphyxias Bloom._

Harry folded the letter and sat back, shaking slightly. Hermione looked up from her knitting.

'Harry? What's wrong?'

'This,' said Harry, holding the letter out for her. She took it and read, her eyes widening.

'Oh, my, Harry,' she said, astonished. 'Dumbledore left you something?'

'Not just something,' said Harry. 'A hell of a lot by the sounds of it. A whole house worth of stuff.'

'I wonder what it is.'

'I don't know but I'm going to find out,' said Harry. 'Hermione – what's alchemy? I know Dumbledore was into it but what does it do?'

'It turns metals into gold and creates the Elixir of Life.'

'I thought the Philosopher's Stone did that?' said Harry.

'It does, but alchemy is concerned with making the Stone. Only Nicloas Flamel and Dumbledore ever did it properly. He probably left alchemists his house because he asked the only successful alchemist to die and his secret went with him.'

'I have to go and find out what he left me,' said Harry. 'What could he have wanted me to have?'

'I don't know, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Come on, get your cloak on and we'll go now.'

'You – you don't have to come,' said Harry. 'It'll probably be boring.'

'What's the matter, Harry,' said Hermione, 'afraid of being seen with me? Besides, the Ministry might be dangerous for you. You might need me.'

'Good point. I cant do the Unforgivable Curses as well as you.'

'Don't say that,' said Hermione in a pitiful voice.

'I'm sorry,' said Harry quickly. 'I was only joking.'

'Please don't,' said Hermione. 'I don't want to remember it.'

'Okay, I'm sorry.'

'Stop apologising. Come on, lets go.'

**A/N: **I know nothing much happens in this chapter but I wanted to get something else out before the few people who are reading this forget about it. I've been in Poland for the last week so I haven't been able to write. I'm still not sure where this is going but hopefully I will get some idea in the future then the story will improve as it has some kind of focus. R&R or flame at your will.


	8. Changing Hands

Chapter 8 – Changing Hands.

A/N: Just wanted to say a quick hello to the secret club of people reading this story. I love you all! Do I owe you money or something? Just kidding. Thank you for keeping reading, I was afraid I wouldn't reach double figures in reviews! Anyway I want to thank you all and just know that I'd have your babies or give you mine if I could as a token of my appreciation. That said, you probably wont read any more (I'm not completely weird, I promise:) ).

p.s. I was drinking strong Polish beer while writing this so if its rubbish I have an excuse!

The fifth floor of the Ministry of Magic was a rather dull place and perhaps the least daunting location at the Headquarters of Wizard government. The Department for Magical Law was the closest point at which the world of Muggle and Wizard could be connected. People here dressed in plain, boring robes or business suits. Matters dealt with here ranged from the mildly mundane to the call-the-hangman mind numbing. It was here that Harry and Hermione now found themselves.

Harry was glad of one thing, it was a quiet time of day and they had managed to enter the Ministry with only the most fleeting of glances in their direction. Harry didn't blame people for gawping at him, not when the Daily Prophet was still telling the world he was some kind of saviour. The looks might have been tinged with an edge of apprehension and, again, Harry couldn't argue; the last two occasions he had visited the Ministry had resulted in a confrontation with Voldemort himself and more lately a vociferous showdown with the Minster of Magic himself. It seemed that every time Harry entered this building bad things tended to happen.

But he was sure that little of that nature was likely today, not in such dull surroundings. Harry had seen plenty of movies with beige and grey offices and this place seemed modelled on the worst of these. Unlike the fascinating Auror office the cubicles here were not decked with moving pictures of wanted criminals. Instead there were tottering piles of parchment and bulging files in every corner and overworked, bored and haggard witches and witches attending the daily grind. The place smelled strongly of powerful coffee and polish and little paper aeroplanes shot around from cubicle to cubicle narrowly missing the heads of unsuspecting workers too depressed to realise where they were walking.

Hermione, who was good at following signs, lead the way to a small room on the far side of the office where a glass door gave relief to the beige walls. Peeling letters on the grubby glass spelt the name of Asphyxias Bloom and a small balding man sat at a desk inside. Looking up, he beckoned them in.

'Ah, you must be Mr Potter!' he said rising and shaking Harry's hand, revealing an unexpectedly firm grip. 'It's a pleasure, of course. And who is this? Your partner?'

'My, uh - what?' said Harry, who had understood perfectly but was flustered all the same.

'Your partner,' said Mr Bloom. 'You know, significant other? Spouse? It's not politically correct to say 'girlfriend' these days. But only significant others can be present at a reading such as this.'

'That's alright,' said Hermione. 'I am his partner, girlfriend, whatever you wish to use. We have no documentation of this, though. I hope this isn't a problem?'

Harry looked at her, surprised at the ease with which she lied.

'No, no, of course not,' said Mr Bloom happily. 'Your word is enough, though seeing you together leaves me in no doubt of your attachment. Young love, is it? Elopement and illegitimate children planned, eh?'

Mr Bloom laughed at his own comments.

'Young love, yes; children, not for while,' said Hermione simply whilst giving Harry an arresting glance. He was too busy choking on shock to really say anything back.

'Right, to business,' said Mr Bloom. 'The will of Albus Dumbledore. Great man, great loss, of course, but also a considerable estate.' Harry noticed Bloom's eyes widen in a way not too unlike those of Dudley, Uncle Vernon and all other greedy men where money was concerned. 'As I mentioned in my letter, Mr Dumbledore has left his property, the expansive country estate of Nine Acre Wood, to alchemical research. His wealth has been divided between four recipients; Hogwarts School, his brother Aberforth Dumbledore, Mr Harry Potter and an organisation known as…hold on, let me read this right…S.P.E.W.'

Hermione gasped, Harry started. Dumbledore had left him money?

'Now, as Mr Dumbledore seemed to be a diligent saver,' said Mr Bloom consulting a large register, 'the amount divided was quite substantial. This has already been distributed by Gringotts Inheritance Goblins. Your account, Mr Potter, has been amended to the tune of ten thousand Galleons.'

Harry spat out the water he had helped himself to, spraying it over Mr Bloom's desk. A quick cleaning spell later and the wizard lawyer was smiling again.

'Good news, yes? I don't blame your reaction. Ten thousand Galleons is quite a windfall. But that's what 150 years of saving will do for you. Now, do either of you know of this Spew thing? Its entrusted to one Hermione Granger. I don't suppose either of you know her?'

'Yes I know her!' cried Hermione in her excitement. 'Well, I mean, I am her. I'm Hermione Granger. S.P.E.W is my organisation, I set it up. I cannot believe that Dumbledore left money to it.'

'Well he has,' said Bloom. 'A comparable sum to that given to Mr Potter here. Clearly he thought it was a cause worth funding.'

Harry looked at Hermione and felt a strange feeling of happiness for her. The look in her eyes displayed pure elation and Harry was delighted for her. Despite all his disparaging remarks about SPEW he knew Hermione cared a lot about it and this unexpected funding had made her joyous. Harry couldn't help but stare at the pretty glow it gave her face.

'Right, to the final piece of business,' said Bloom. 'The contents of Mr Dumbledore's house have all been entrusted to you Mr Potter. Normally these would have been delivered right to you, but it appears that your home seems to evade all attempts to locate it. It was suggested that it was Unplottable, laughable I know…'

'Try to appreciate, Mr Bloom,' said Hermione in a half-whisper, 'the very great danger Harry is in. He is working constantly against You-Know-Who and sometimes needs to be hidden. His work and life are very covert and this must be maintained. I'm sure you understand.'

'Oh, perfectly so, Miss Granger,' said Bloom. 'I apologise, I won't press the matter.'

'Thank you,' said Hermione.

'The items left to you,' said Bloom quickly, 'are mostly pretty mundane things. Trinkets, strange instruments, old school books, that sort of thing.'

'School books?' said Harry. He looked at Hermione and they shared look which said quite plainly 'half-blood Prince'.

'Yes,' said Bloom, 'quite boring things. They have been left to you with specific instructions that they are delivered intact. I assume you know the meaning or value of these items?'

'Yes,' said Harry quickly. 'They've got, er, sentimental value, you know.'

'Of course.'

'When can I collect them?' Harry asked.

'Today,' replied Mr Bloom. 'Simply sign here, here and here, and initial here and I will call for someone to escort you to the storage rooms.'

Harry snatched the parchment from Mr Bloom and his quill, signing his name haphazardly against the starred lines Mr Bloom had marked out. After the final initial had been signed Bloom folded up a message into a paper aeroplane, tapped it with his wand and sent it flying from the room. In a few moments a dumpy sort of woman entered the room.

'Dotty, will you please escort Mr Potter and Miss Granger to storage?' said Mr Bloom.

'Certainly,' replied Dotty with only the slightest of looks towards Harry's scar.

They walked in silence, slowly behind the stubby legged woman. She led them back across the office and into another elevator, this one considerably smaller than the main one leading to the Atrium. The three of them squashed inside and the lift rattled down several floors, opening up onto a grey corridor lit by torches held in dirty yellow brackets. The third door on the right was their destination.

'Right, here it is,' said the woman gruffly. 'Follow the shelves until you find your name, your things will be there. I will wait here.'

Harry entered the dim storage room feeling Hermione follow close behind. He could barely make out the lettering on the shelves and it took some time to find the P column. The row seemed to stretch for miles into darkness at the back of the room and by the time Harry reached the compartment with his name he could no longer see the end of the row in either direction.

'I don't like this place, Harry,' said Hermione, grabbing his arm. 'It's creepy.'

'I, er, sort of need my arm,' said Harry, though without making any effort to move it.

'Oh, ok,' said Hermione. She didn't let go either.

Harry started to flick through the pile of boxes in the compartment with one hand until, eventually, Hermione let go of his other arm. In the dark of the storage room it was hard to see what the contents of most of the boxes were, but by touch alone Harry counted at least two dozen books and a load of spindly instruments that he suspected had once lived on the Headmasters' desk.

'What do I do with them?' Harry asked Hermione.

'Here, let me,' she replied brushing him to once side. A flick of her wand later and all the boxes vanished leaving nothing but an empty space. 'They'll be waiting for us at home,' Hermione continued. 'It'll be much easier to look through them there. I mean, I know it's dark at home but nowhere near as bad as this.'

'Why do you keep calling it home?' asked Harry.

'Well, it is, sort of, isn't it?' said Hermione. 'And besides, it's best not to say the name out loud. Walls have ears, as they say. Anyone could be listening.'

'Good point,' said Harry. 'Let's go. Pick up the candle, will you? I'm not sure I want to walk back without it.'

'Aww, chosen one scared of the dark?' Hermione teased. 'Do you want me to hold your hand?'

'Yeah, if you like.'

The words came out before Harry could stop them. He was glad it was dark as he was pretty convinced he was flushing like never before. There was a few seconds silence in which an atmosphere sprang up that was awkward and embarrassing. Hermione reached across Harry and in one movement grabbed the candle from the shelf while at the same time slipping her other hand into Harry's. She didn't look at him, but he could see a grin on her face by the light from the flickering candle.

_She likes this,_ Harry thought. _Maybe she even teased about the hand holding on purpose._ Her skin felt smooth and cool against his own palm, which was beginning to sweat a little. Harry, for reasons quite beyond his control, gave the back of Hermione's palm a little stroke with his thumb. He heard a small, but very sharp intake of breath next to him before Hermione squeezed his hand in response and returned the sentiment.

Such things were running through Harry's mind like never before. Here he was walking hand-in-hand with Hermione, neither one looking at the other but both experiencing the same thrill at the contact between them. All too soon the end of the row neared and they soon found themselves facing the stubby woman who had escorted them from upstairs. Harry had expected Hermione to break their contact at this point but the opposite happened. She moved closer to him so that their whole arms were touching and Hermione's head was almost resting on Harry's shoulder. For his part, he was frozen in place by her close proximity.

'Did you find it?' asked the little woman.

'Yes, thanks,' said Hermione. 'I vanished it away so we have all now.'

'Very good, miss,' said the woman. 'You'll need to fill out some paperwork…'

Hermione disengaged herself from Harry and began filling out various forms, leaving Harry to ponder what was happening. One thing he felt for sure was that his hand felt very lonely without Hermione's electric touch to keep it company. It had never been like this before, not with Cho and certainly not with Ginny. With Cho the very idea of touching scared Harry witless, while with Ginny it was all about snogging, nothing more. But here he was totally overwhelmed by just holding hands with a girl, and not just any girl – Hermione.

When had this happened? He had totally missed the stage where his admiration for her had stopped being that of a friend and became that of a potential suitor. He was starting to see her less as the Hermione he knew and more as the Hermione he wanted to know better, and in ways quite inappropriate for a friend to think about. He had grown used to being obsessed with looking at her but now that had been replaced with another need – the need to touch her, to be near her, to be intimate with her. It was a distracting chain of thought.

'Well, that's all sorted,' said Hermione coming over. 'Shall we, er, go home?'

Harry nodded, totally dumbstruck by the look Hermione had just given him. They went to the lift and in no time at all found themselves striding down the Atrium towards the Apparition points. The passed the Fountain of Magical Brethren, which had been remade after Voldemort and Dumbledore had destroyed it during their duel.

'I remember when I first saw that,' said Harry nodding towards the golden sculpture. 'I remember laughing to myself at what you would say if you saw the house-elf like that.'

'Why, you weren't with me?' said Hermione looking surprised. 'It would have been your hearing, wouldn't it? Why would you have thought of me?'

'I, er, dunno,' said Harry, turning a hint of scarlet again. 'I just saw it and you came to mind. I emptied my entire money pouch into it, because I said I would if I got off.'

'So, is that a regular thing?' asked Hermione tentatively.

'What?'

'You thinking about me when I'm not around?'

Harry didn't answer at once, considering why Hermione would ask a question like this. He decided truth was the best answer.

'I do it sometimes,' he said. 'Especially if I'm about to do something that might be a bit wrong or dangerous. I sort of hear your voice in my head, telling me off or trying to reason with me. I used to hear it all the time when I imagined what you'd say if you knew I wasn't doing my homework properly, or not practising Occlumency enough, that sort of thing.'

'I-I'm surprised,' said Hermione, who herself was blushing a little now. 'I'd have never of thought you would do something like that.'

'Its bit weird, I know.'

'It isn't weird,' said Hermione. 'It's quite sweet actually, knowing that I mean something to you.'

'Now that is a weird thing to say!' said Harry incredulously. 'You must know that you mean something to me! That you're so important to me, that I look for your approval in everything. I mean, I'm practically in…'

Harry stopped himself sharply in mid sentence. He didn't dare look in Hermione's direction and he was glad they had reached the Apparition Squares. He chanced a look at her as they turned and prepared to Apparate. Her face was glowing and she appeared to be smiling broadly to herself alone. But it was her eyes that took Harry by surprise – they were on fire, dancing and alive. Without looking at him, Hermione turned and disappeared. Harry took a deep breath and prepared to follow her, totally terrified about what would happen when he got back to Grimmauld Place and he and Hermione would be totally alone. Taking one last look down the Atrium Harry reckoned he'd prefer a round with Voldemort here rather than facing what might be waiting for him in Hermione's company.


	9. The Best of Times, The Worst of Times

A/N: I'm going to use my author note on this chapter to answer some of the things said in the reviews I've had as I'm far too lazy to answer them all individually.

To H**arrie** be afraid of the dating thing, as long as you live women will always scare/confuse/madden you. But they're worth it.

To **alix33** Bloom doesnt call Dumbledore Professor as he is merely another obituary for him to sort out and I dont think he's that respectful a man; as far as Hermione's wizard finances go I always assumed she opened an account the first time she went to Gringotts to change Muggle pounds into Wizard currency. This is where I'd imagine SPEW's funds going unless she set up a separate account. Either way we can just make assumptions here; herbal relaxants were meant to be more like special teas or coffees, not hash or anything!; the concept of Jihad has been around since the time of the Crusades and wasnt originally a military idea (that interpretation came later) and I dont think its unreasonable to assume they might have heard about the troubles in the Muggle world (my stories go with a modern calander not JKR's original); he did stay on his own in PoA but he was surrounded by wizards and in a hotel with other guests, so he wasnt truly isolated like he would be alone at number 12.

To **SphinxGirl **yes, for my pains, I am welsh. Mae hen wlad fy nyhddau, and all that jazz

Enough of the Guff, here's chapter 9. Enjoy!

Chapter 9 - The Best of Times, The Worst Of Times.

Harry was on tenterhooks all evening. He couldn't decide which set of feelings was worse; the highly anxious set where he didn't know quite what to expect, or the terrifically excited set where he still didn't know what Hermione had planned but was eager to find out just the same. What did concern him was the frequency of highly impure thoughts he kept having.

He remembered during fourth year Ron having, what recovering alcoholics call, 'a moment of clarity' and realising Hermione was a girl. Harry felt he was experiencing something similar. He had never noticed before the succulently seductive sway in Hermione's hips, something which surprised him greatly as he'd noticed it another girls. It was mesmerising and he knew Hermione had caught him gawping at her several times during the course of the day. He tried to drive it from his mind first by thinking about Horcruxes, which proved too frustrating to concentrate on, then by polishing his broomstick which he had transported, along with all his other possessions, to Grimmauld Place when he had left Privet Drive. The action of polishing, however, caused Hermione to burst out laughing and Harry, quickly cottoning on, packed away his things and sat in an embarrassed silence until they had dinner.

They had something of a minor feast that evening. Plates of sausages, chicken, steak, peas, chips and several other things Harry weren't quite sure of filled the kitchen table. Hermione looked very pleased with herself; she had asked Mrs Weasley to teach her the spells which made food cook itself, and this was the first time she had got it right. Harry, who had learned that people liked to be appreciated after hard work, offered his praise.

'Wow, Hermione,' he said. 'This looks superb. It's like a mini-Hogwarts.'

'Thanks, Harry,' she beamed. 'That's exactly what I was trying for!'

Harry, finding himself oddly undone by her radiant smile, merely grinned back and sat down. He pulled several of the plates towards himself and began to fill the platter in front of him. After tentatively sampling several of the wares on offer he quickly discovered that it all tasted quite as good as it looked. Hermione was wearing a sort of waiting-for-approval look and Harry swallowed quickly.

'This is great,' he smiled. 'One day you'll have to teach me to cook like this.'

'Like you'd stand over a stove with me for hours while I showed you the fine arts of grilling and boiling!'

'I might,' said Harry shrewdly. This time it was Hermione who looked disarmed, an effect that made Harry's insides do somersaults.

'Well…' said Hermione trying to regain composure. 'If we get time, you know after Voldemort is done away with, maybe I'll try and teach you. That isn't the best stove in the world, though. It's a bit of a death trap actually.'

'Planning to stay for a bit once I've saved the world, are you?' asked Harry, grinning.

'Oh well – I just meant…'

'I'd like it if you did,' said Harry more calmly than he felt. 'It'd be nice to have some company…only if you wanted to, obviously.'

'You – you want me to live with you?' said Hermione, unable to hide the flicker of a tremble in her voice.

'Well I can't cook,' said Harry flatly. 'And you wouldn't want me to die of starvation, would you?'

'Of course not,' said Hermione brightly. 'Plus you might need someone to gloat to once the paper starts calling you the Boy Wonder Who Saved the World or something.'

'I quite liked SuperHarry,' said Harry. 'It's got a nice ring to it.'

'We'd have to find you a cape, though,' said Hermione thoughtfully. 'And some kinky red boots. Maybe Fred and George have got contacts in the fashion world. And, of course, you'll have to wear your underpants outside your robes.'

'You'd like that would you?'

'Yeah, it would be quite funny,' said Hermione.

'Sounds like you've given this a bit of thought,' Harry teased. 'Seems like you've got my pants on your brain.'

'Not at all,' said Hermione, unabashed. 'That's just you and your wishful thinking.'

Hermione flicked her eyebrows at Harry and he nearly choked on a particularly large piece of chicken that he tried to swallow without chewing.

'My word, Harry,' said Hermione laughing. 'You're really not very good at flirting, are you?'

'At w-what, sorry?'

'Flirting, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Considering you have girls throwing themselves at you I'd have expected you to be a bit more refined.'

'Were we flirting?' said Harry. 'I thought we were just talking.'

Hermione shook her head in a mix of exasperation and disappointment.

'Anyway,' said Harry. 'Who's throwing themselves at me? I haven't seen any throwing.'

'Come on, Harry. No need to be modest. Half the girls in Hogwarts had your picture pinned on the walls of their dormitory. There was one in my dorm, I cant remember who put it up now, and that thing with Lavender and 'Won-Won' was only because he was friends with you.'

'That's why she took their break-up so well,' said Harry, who was feeling a little more than embarrassed at the thought of his picture on bedroom walls all over the school.

'Exactly. Remember all the girls who tried to love potion you? Them too. Then there was Ginny…'

Hermione's words tailed off. She suddenly became very interested in the cupboard in the corner.

'Hermione?' Harry asked.

'Can I ask you a question?' she asked.

'You just did – but I'll permit one more,' said Harry, smiling to himself as he mimicked a response Professor Dumbledore had once given him to the same question.

'It's a bit personal.'

'When has that ever made difference between us?'

Hermione smiled. 'It's about you and Ginny.'

'Go on,' said Harry.

'I was just wondering, I mean, I often wondered before just how much real affection there was there. You haven't got to answer if you'd rather not.'

'No, its okay,' said Harry. 'Remember Lavender and Ron? Pretty much the same thing with me and Ginny, except we talked sometimes and if she'd tried to call me 'Har-Har' I would have had to have hexed her. It didn't take me long to realise that there wasn't much depth there.'

'Hmm, I thought as much,' said Hermione.

'Thought about it much did you?' said Harry. 'I never knew my love life was so interesting to you.'

'I like gossip as much as the next girl,' said Hermione, grinning. 'Besides, it was right in front of me, how could I not think about it?'

'That's evasive and you know it!' said Harry.

'Why does it matter?' said Hermione. 'Why would you want to know if I was interested in your love life?'

'Because you told me all the time how I was going wrong with Cho,' said Harry, 'but you didn't say much when I was with Ginny and doing just as badly, if only in a different sense. I thought it was because you were too tied up being lovesick over Ron.'

'Excuse me!' said Hermione, scandalised. 'I was not lovesick!'

'Oh, come on, madam,' said Harry. 'You attacked him with canaries! You were a woman scorned.'

Hermione laughed out loud. 'Oh well, maybe I was - a little. But I wasn't any worse than you! Looking like you wanted to throttle Dean Thomas every time you saw him. It was obvious.'

'Only to you,' said Harry. 'How much time do you spend looking at me anyway?'

'Probably about as much time as you spend thinking about _me _when you're alone,' said Hermione.

'That much, eh?' said Harry. 'Got me next to Lockhart in your signed photo album, have you? I'm touched.'

'Tapped, maybe,' said Hermione. 'In the head. You've never given me a signed photo, anyway.'

'Do you want one?' asked Harry. 'I was thinking about taking old Lockie's advice and carrying some around.'

'Only if you're in the red boots we talked about.'

'What? And nothing else?'

'If you like,' said Hermione winking.

'We'll take one each and swap,' said Harry, determined to get his flirting right. 'But I want yours first.'

'Perv,' said Hermione smirking.

'That's not a 'no' then?' said Harry, deciding to see how far he could push his luck.

'We'll see, if you're a good boy,' said Hermione, flushing at her cheeks. 'Speaking of photos, though, I did have a thought. A clean one.'

'Really? I thought you'd stopped having those. You're mind's become so filthy – I'd never have believed it of you.'

'Only where you're concerned,' said Hermione. '_Anyway_, I was thinking that maybe we could use pictures to brighten this place up. I thought we could take some of the pictures from your photo album and copy them and put them up. I'm sure Sirius would have liked to have pictures of your mum and dad up around the house, and we can get some of him too. And you. But if it's too painful-'

'That's a great idea!' said Harry. 'We'd have to find somewhere to copy them. Don't know how you do that here. It's not like going to the chemists and getting them done, is it? We'll have to find out. We could buy a camera and take some of you – normal ones – and stick them up to. And you could get some of your parents; I can't even remember what they look like.'

'You can meet them – if you like,' said Hermione. 'I have to go and see them, just so they know I'm okay. They're really worried about me with things being as they are.'

'I'd like to meet them,' said Harry. 'But I won't be able to say much. They might blame me for getting you into so much danger over the past six years and for getting you involved with fighting Voldemort. Plus I've got awful teeth and I'd be so embarrassed if they saw.'

Hermione laughed again. 'They won't judge you on bad teeth.'

'They're dentists and they're human,' said Harry. 'I know my Uncle would have frowned at someone if they used a drill he didn't sell. You're parents would be the same.'

'I'm sure they'd love you,' said Hermione. 'A few cavities wouldn't change that.'

'We could go next week,' said Harry. 'It's probably going to take till then to go through all of Dumbledore's stuff.'

'Do you want to go and have a look at some of it?'

Harry nodded and together they cleared the table and washed the dishes, Hermione asking Harry if she could use the spell from the Hogwarts Great Hall to float everlasting candles around the more gloomy rooms. Harry didn't see any reason to object to any idea that might make the house feel less like a morgue than it currently did. Once the plates were away Harry led the way upstairs.

The contents of Dumbledore's house filled half of one of the empty spare rooms on the second floor of 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry felt a strange pang that was something like guilt or remorse that the remains of the greatest wizard who ever lived were confined to a collection of unmarked cardboard boxes. Harry counted at least twelve from where he stood in the doorway, though there may have been more behind. He crossed the room to the first box and started picking through its contents.

The first couple of boxes were, as Mr Bloom had warned, rather mundane. There were copies of battered spell books, which Harry recognised as still being part of the Hogwarts curriculum, along with several rather heavy volumes with long titles in old English. They were the kind of books Hermione might term 'light reading'. There were books on highly advanced Transfiguration, Potion making and Charms as well as a couple on Occlumency that Harry made a note to flick through.

The first box containing something other than books was much more interesting. The first thing was a roll of parchment so long it was almost a scroll, containing an alphabetical list of spells not even Hermione had seen during all her travels through the Hogwarts library.

'He must have made all these up himself!' she exclaimed whilst looking at a spell to create everlasting liquorice wands. 'And it must have been when he was much younger. Look how yellow the parchment is. And his writing is different; it was definitely more loopy then this in every letter I've seen in his handwriting. There's enough spells here to make an entire book.'

'I'll keep it as back up for the day my money dries up,' said Harry. 'I'm sure it'd be a bestseller.'

'Look at this one, Harry,' said Hermione pointing at the list. 'It's a spell to make you invisible.'

'It says reflection, doesn't it?' said Harry, reading over her shoulder. 'What does it say?'

'It says that the spell makes the user reflect his background, thus making him invisible. If anyone saw you they'd just see the background you were reflecting. I suppose if you moved, and it was bright enough, you might see a shimmer or something, but it would be so effective in the dark.'

'I remember him telling me he didn't need a cloak to become invisible,' said Harry, recollecting his first year at Hogwarts. 'This must be how he did it.'

They spent much of the next hour poring over this list, reading about all the spells Dumbledore had invented. Lots seemed quite silly to Harry; there were lots of sweet-related spells, several personal grooming charms (including a hair-tidying spell Harry had his eye on), a few for domestic jobs and an extensive list of defensive spells. Almost all of them were non-verbal. Learning them, Harry felt, would probably take him until he was Dumbledore's age.

The next box was taller than the others, the reason for this becoming quickly apparent.

'Fawkes' perch,' said Harry sorrowfully, taking out the wooden stand which for so long had been the home of Dumbledore's pet. 'I suppose it couldn't stay in the school, could it.'

'Poor Fawkes, he must have been tied to Dumbledore somehow. As soon as he died, Fawkes had nothing left to live for.'

Moving swiftly on Harry opened the next box. Inside he found a leather case with quite bulky contents.

'What is that?' asked Hermione as Harry reached inside.

'I don't believe it!' said Harry. 'It's a bowling ball!'

Sure enough Harry was holding a large, glittering red ball, his fingers poking into evenly spaced holes.

'Why would Dumbledore have a bowling ball?' asked Hermione.

'He loved ten-pin bowling,' said Harry. 'It's on the back of his Chocolate Frog card. I memorised it after what happened in first year. It was one of his hobbies.'

'And this was another one,' said Hermione, who had just found the biggest bag of sherbet lemons Harry had ever seen.

'Shall we have one?' said Hermione.

'How about one each?' said Harry, grinning.

Hermione took out one of the yellow sweets and offered it to Harry.

'You have that one,' said Harry. 'I think my hand is stuck in this ball.'

Hermione unwrapped the sweet. 'Here, open your mouth.'

Uncertainly, Harry did as he was told. Hermione, whose hands Harry could see trembling a little, went to pop the sherbet lemon into Harry's waiting mouth. As she did so, Harry closed his mouth a little too quickly and ended up catching the end of Hermione's finger in between his lips.

Harry felt like what happened next was a sort of out of body experience. Hermione stepped forward, drawing her finger very slowly from Harry's lips but moving her hand to the side of his face. Harry wanted to speak but his mouth had gone strangely dry, a sensation amplified by the fizzing sherbet on his tongue.

'Sorry, Harry,' said Hermione huskily. 'I've decided I wanted that one.'

She stepped closer still. Her body was touching the bowling ball, which Harry was unable to move. He could feel his arm being brushed down to his side as Hermione continued to prowl towards him, then the ball fell from his fingers and bounced across the wooden floor. By this time Hermione's hand had moved to cup Harry's head just below his ear, a part of his body, it turned out, which was highly sensitive. With the tingling electricity he was experiencing Harry felt he could have powered a small country for a couple of days.

'He-Hermione…'

'Shhh,' she replied, pressing her finger to his lips. Harry was now breathing so hard and so irregularly that it would have been uncomfortable were it not for the situation. She was now inches from his face, her body pressed fully into his causing all parts of him to act completely independent of both each other and his mind. Certain parts of this were too embarrassing for words and Harry felt it was rather unlucky that Hermione noticed this too.

'I don't need to ask if you want this to happen, then?' she said, her eyes flickering downwards. Harry couldn't have answered even if he had been able to think of some kind of reply. Hermione gently eased Harry's head down, as he was considerably taller than her. He was about to close his eyes when suddenly –

BOOM! BOOM!

Thunderous knocks were battering the front door and echoing through the house. In a split second the atmosphere was shattered and Hermione was composing herself as she was crossing the room. Harry followed as she made her way to the front door. Hagrid was standing there, his beetle-like eyes crinkled with emotion, though Harry couldn't decide if it was anger or sorrow that they showed.

'Hagrid? What is it?' asked Hermione, alarmed by Hagrid's wild appearance. 'What's happened?'

'There's been an attack,' said Hagrid, his voice cracking. 'An attack at the Burrow.'

'An attack?' said Harry. 'What kind of attack? The Death Eaters?'

Hagrid nodded.

'Is anyone hurt?' asked Hermione. 'Is everyone okay?'

'No,' said Hagrid quietly. 'No they're not. Someone's dead.'


	10. Lost and Found

Author Note: This chapter isnt very good and not a lot happens in it. I just wanted to put something out before they small band of people reading this forget about it. I will try to make the next chapter better.

Chapter Ten

Harry couldn't form proper thoughts as he followed Hermione down the steps of Grimmauld Place. They would have to fly to the Burrow, as Hagrid couldn't Apparate. Harry had often observed that Hagrid looked too big to be allowed in almost any situation, but seeing him mount a broomstick was utterly absurd. The handle was barely up to his chest and Harry had quantifiable reservations that he would even get off the ground.

'Shall I Apparate, Harry?' asked Hermione. 'I don't have a broom see.'

'You can come on with me if you want,' said Harry. 'I'm sure it'll support us both.'

Hermione threw her leg over the broom and Harry scooted on behind her. Their bodies were pressed together and Hermione threw him a little smile over her shoulder and pushed back into him. Harry cursed the bad timing and took off after Hagrid who was already some way ahead. Hermione, who Harry remembered didn't like flying, was gripping onto Harry's hands very tightly as he guided the broom in flight. The Firebolt quickly caught Hagrid's broom and they flew on in silence.

It was late evening by this time and wispy clouds hung slightly above the trio as they flew. Summer was passing quickly and the Autumn air was chilly at the height they were flying. The sharp air mixed with the moisture of the clouds to freeze Harry's face as he shot along. Hermione in front of him was tense and her rigidity told Harry that she was probably thinking exactly as he was.

And there was only one topic. Who had died? Harry hated himself for doing it but he couldn't help but prioritise, to formulate a list of whom it would be least painful to part with. In spite of, perhaps even because of, their recent falling out Harry put Ron at the bottom of his list. The very thought that their final parting would come at a time then they were on such bad terms chilled him in a way harsh weather never could. It was all he could do to put the idea from his mind and focus on flying.

Then there were the other Weasley's, any number of whom could have been at the Burrow at the time of the attack. Fred and George were easily his favourites and he would despair greatly if either of them were the victim. Bill on the other hand, Harry thought, is half-werewolf now so perhaps it would be a blessing for him. But then that would devastate Fleur, who Harry had always harboured something of a soft spot for her, and he wouldn't want to see her upset, or dead for that matter.

That thought brought him on to Ginny. His thoughts on her were so convoluted that he had trouble deciphering them. He didn't want her dead, to be sure, but he thought he could deal with it if she had. Their relationship had deteriorated to such an extent that the selfish part of Harry's brain felt it would be easier without having to deal with the fallout from that. And in any case, he thought, Hermione would be there to help me get over it. It was then that he remembered that if it wasn't for him she would still have been there, she might have been in the line of fire. The thought made him give her a purposeful hug and grip her fingers as tightly as they were digging into him.

'What is it?' she called back to him.

'Nothing,' he replied. 'I'm just glad you're with me.'

'That's quite scary,' said Hermione.

'What is? What's scary about that?'

'Not the thing itself,' said Hermione. 'I was just thinking _exactly_ the same thing. It was running through my mind, word for word. Then you said it.'

'That is scary,' said Harry. 'I'd better get back to my Occlumency soon.'

'Occlumency couldn't keep me out, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Not from you, anyway.'

Harry returned her warm smile with one of his own, enjoying more than he knew he should the feeling of her hands smoothing his own and her bushy head cradling back into his neck. It wasn't soon after, as if some cosmic force was conspiring to keep Harry from any happiness, that the outline of Stoatshead Hill came into view. The Burrow, silhouetted against the gently rising morning sun, stood a short distance away and Harry could almost taste the scent of sorrow drifting up on the air.

Hagrid landed first with all the grace of a gymnastic buffalo and Harry imagined that the Weasley's would know they had visitors by the gigantic thud. He, himself, touched down with much greater deftness. Hermione dismounted and, despite the impending bad news, Harry couldn't help but grin to himself at the look of disappointment on her face. She, he could tell, had enjoyed that ride just as much s he had.

No sooner had they stowed their brooms safely in the shed in the garden than Mrs Weasley was crossing the yard towards them. She drew Harry and Hermione into a hug, telling them both how much she had missed them and how worried she had been. Harry could see by her face that she had been crying a lot. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin blotchy. Harry felt his heart sink for he knew that whoever had been killed had been one of her own.

'W-what happened?' said Harry uncertainly.

'It was You-Know-Who,' said Mrs Weasley. She spoke in a tone which suggested she was all cried out. Her voice was as tired and strained as her face. 'I knew it was only a matter of time before one of us went. There's just too many of us fighting in high places to not be targets. And in the end we lost one.'

'Wh-who was it, Mrs Weasley?' asked Hermione tentatively.

'Charlie,' said Mrs Weasley, like she'd already told the tale to a thousand people. 'It was Charlie.'

'How did it happen?' asked Harry.

'You-Know-Who set a dragon loose. Charlie went to help reign it in. He was so brave, hardly anyone else tried to help. Too scared to get involved in case You-Know-Who targeted them. They managed to tie it down but just as they thought it was subdued it lashed its tail. Charlie was hit. The Healers said it would have been instant. He wouldn't have known much about it. That's some comfort, I suppose. He didn't suffer.'

Her tone drifted off. There wasn't anything to say and Harry felt that anything worthwhile had probably been said already by people more eloquent than himself. They followed Mrs Weasley as she led the way in doors where they were met in the kitchen by the surviving Weasley's, Fleur, Tonks, Lupin and several others Harry didn't recognise. As soon as he and Hermione were in sight Ron approached them and shook Harry's hand. He could barely look at Hermione and afforded her only a grunt by way of a greeting.

'Thanks for coming,' he mumbled, though sincerity ran through his voice.

'Of course,' said Harry. 'How are you all doing?'

'Mum's been a right state since it happened,' said Ron. 'Ginny's been pretty much the same but Dad's been as bad as anyone. He hasn't spoken a word for ages.'

'Maybe he's in shock,' said Hermione, glancing at Mr Weasley slumped at the table looking glazed.

'That's what mum said,' said Ron, following Hermione's gaze to his father. 'But I don't think he's even spoken to her.'

Harry stood there looking around at the Weasley's, unsure of what to say. He had never been very good in situations like this. He remembered the time when he'd seen Mr Weasley bitten by Voldemort's snake and they had all gone to Grimmauld Place to wait for news. He hadn't known the right things to say then and the situation felt almost identical now. He decided it was best to stay silent, to not intrude on the grief and speak only when spoken to.

This didn't take long however. Ron, who seemed to be feeling the awkward silence just as much as Harry, asked quietly if he had had any luck with the Horcruxes.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'We found one at Hogwarts, d'you believe that? Gryffindor's armour was the suit in the corridor by the painting of the Fat Lady.'

'Wow,' said Ron. 'It was right under Dumbledore's nose all that time. How did it get in though? Surely You-Know-Who would have had to make it into a Horcrux fairly recently.'

'Not necessarily,' said Hermione. 'He was trying to learn to do them when he was at school. One of his first killings might have been made when he was still here and he used the suit of armour then. Maybe when he used the basilisk to kill Moaning Myrtle. Plus, we don't know how long the suit has been at the school. It looked a lot newer than the other ones.'

'It doesn't matter,' said Harry, who could sense an argument brewing. 'It's been destroyed anyway. All other whys and wherefores are irrelevant.'

'You destroyed it?' said Ron, sounding both impressed and disappointed to have missed it. 'How?'

'I made it possess me and Hermione had to curse me till the part of Voldemort's soul was destroyed,' Harry explained.

'You let it possess you?' said Ron, both sounding and looking horrified at the thought. 'You took a piece of You-Know-Who's soul into you? By choice?'

'Pretty much,' said Harry, alarmed by the burgeoning awed look on Ron's face. He had quite enough star struck fans and he didn't need his friend to be one too.

'Wow,' said Ron. 'You're mad!'

'It had to be done,' said Hermione sniffily. 'There wasn't any other choice. But hexing Harry to within an inch of his life was hardly my idea of a fun afternoon. I didn't think that fighting Voldemort would involve us fighting each other, too.'

'Well what was it you liked to say?' said Harry. 'Voldemort spreads enmity and discord from within? Or something mad like that.'

'Y-you remembered my words?' said Hermione. Harry noticed a sweeping frown cross Ron's face, but it was gone as quickly as it arrived.

'Well you did keep saying them,' said Harry. 'Kind of ingrained on my skull after that.'

'Shut up, Harry,' said Hermione, playfully slapping his arm but grinning all the time. 'I do not keep on about things.'

Harry coughed trying to conceal a veiled 'SPEW' within it. Even Ron gave a half-smirk to this as Hermione slapped Harry again.

'Which reminds me,' said Harry, and he explained about Dumbledore's will and all the things he'd been left.

'Money! He gave you money?' said Ron in disbelief.

'Lots of it,' said Harry, who was feeling embarrassed about this now. 'I don't know why.'

'That's obvious,' said Ron. 'You always were his favourite and he never had any children of his own. You were probably the closest thing he ever had to a son. He might have even felt like you were a bit.'

There was a knock at the door that interrupted the conversation. Fred got up to answer the door, opening to a tall, thin man with wispy orange hair. He was some relative Harry had never met.

'My uncle Octavian,' said Ron. 'He's the Accountant we never talk about. Better go and say hello.'

Ron sidled away to join his family as they accepted the commiserations of the newcomer. Harry sidled up to Hermione feeling more apart from the Weasley family than ever.

'Shall we go for a walk?' said Hermione. 'I feel really awkward here.'

Harry nodded enthusiastically and followed Hermione to the door. They passed Fred and Bill on the way, both of whom shook Harry's hand and clasped him on the shoulder as they thanked him for coming. This made Harry feel even worse as he just felt more useless than ever. Once into the garden Hermione led the way though the back gate and into the field behind the house.

'Nice path,' said Harry irritably as his shoes sank into soft mud.

'Sorry, I just couldn't stay in there anymore,' said Hermione. 'I feel so terrible for them. What can you do though? They are all family and they can't do much for each other. I feel so outside of it.'

'Me too,' said Harry. 'Perhaps its better that way. We don't feel it as much.'

'Are you joking?' said Hermione. 'I feel it badly. I just keep thinking -'

She broke off suddenly and looked away.

'Thinking what?' asked Harry.

'I just keep thinking,' said Hermione slowly, 'what if…what if it was you. I couldn't stand it, I just couldn't. I couldn't bear it if that happened to you. If you die, Harry, I don't think I could go on.'

'What are you talking about?' said Harry. 'That's a silly thing to say. Of course you could go on.'

'I couldn't,' said Hermione.

'Why are you saying this?' said Harry. 'I'm not going to promise I won't die, I can't, but I don't like thinking about what you'd do if I did.'

'Things are changing between us, Harry,' said Hermione. 'They already have, don't you think? I don't even want to think about being parted from you.'

Harry felt an odd sensation pass through him. Without thinking he took Hermione's hand and turned her to face him. She looked on the verge of tears but her expression changing as he brushed her hair behind her ears, bent down and kissed her gently on her lips. She tasted warm and Harry felt electrified. She kept her eyes closed as he pulled away.

'If you don't want to think about it, then don't,' said Harry. He smiled and guided Hermione onto a firmer path to talk what he hoped would be quite a long stroll.


	11. Fleur's Wedding and a Funeral

A/n: There doesnt appear to be much interest in this story here anymore so this might be the last chapter I post of this story. It will be continued over in the fanfiction area of portkey where its getting a few reviews if there is anyone who wants to know what happens next.

Chapter 11 - Fleur's Wedding and a Funeral

The next few days were some of the most strained Harry had ever experienced. He and Hermione would go to the Burrow straight after breakfast and not leave until late into the night. Each visit was like a carbon copy of the last; long, sombre silences where few words were spoken, visits by relatives and well-wishers come to pay their respects, awkward conversations and a lot of tears.

It was during these days that Harry came to realise just how much he appreciated Hermione, feeling more attached to her with each visit, something he hadn't had thought possible prior to this. They were together in their feelings, both considering themselves separate from the grief of the Weasley's and clinging close to each other in response to this. They would sit side by side around the Weasley's fireplace as the family recounted stories of Charlie and vaunted his virtues, an exercise Harry couldn't understand as it just led to one or more members of the family breaking down with the pain of it all.

The only part Harry could attribute anything positive to was that he could put his arm around Hermione or hold her hand and it would seem like they were just comforting each other. His sentiment here was, he accepted, selfish but he had his own emotional investment to be concerned with. Besides, with each tale of Charlie, Harry couldn't help but think back to Hermione's words and replace Charlie with her. He tried hard to not imagine similar scenes with Hermione as the victim, but she had crept so surreptitiously close to his heart that he couldn't help it. The thought of sharing stories about her life and mourning her death struck Harry so far to the core that he thought he was experiencing a sense of theoretical loss close to the actual grief the Weasley family were enduring.

After a couple of days of constant visits to the Burrow, Ron actually started talking to Hermione with a creditable degree of civility. Harry felt a sense of gratitude towards him that he was taking considerable pains to bridge the gulf that was threatening to open up between them. Hermione received his efforts with somewhat guarded gratuity herself, as if she suspected they were false. Harry thought she was being a little harsh and told her so.

'And don't think I'm taking his side, because I'm not,' he added to her. 'I just think he is honestly trying. Don't you think he deserves a chance?'

'He doesn't deserve one, no,' Hermione replied. 'Not after the way he spoke to me. But I am giving him a chance. It's a last chance, though. If he upsets me again, that's it. We're finished. Then you have to choose.'

'Choose what?'

'Between me and Ron,' said Hermione simply.

'Well,' said Harry thoughtfully. 'I think I'd have to go with you. Ron doesn't shave very well and his stubble might tickle if I kiss him. Then again, your stubble tickles me sometimes. Yeah – I think it'd better be you.'

'Oi!' said Hermione as she made for Harry's ribs. 'I'll give you tickling!'

'Is that a promise?' said Harry in his best impersonation of a sultry voice.

'Maybe later, if you're lucky,' said Hermione as she turned back to collecting dishes from the dresser. It was nearly dark at the Burrow and Hermione and volunteered her and Harry to make dinner for the family, as Mrs Weasley seemed so fatigued. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione had a dual motivation for offering to cook and getting Harry alone was the chief priority. If they made food in the meantime it was just a bonus.

'I'm serious about Ron, though,' said Harry, adding cutlery to Hermione's plate laying. 'Everyone deserves a chance to redeem themselves. If we don't forgive we become as bad as those black hearted scum we're trying to fight.'

'I didn't know they taught philosophy at Hogwarts,' said Hermione sardonically. 'I'll have to complain to McGonagall about not offering it to me.'

'You're funny,' said Harry. 'You should be on the stage. I think there's one leaving soon!'

'Ho ho ho,' said Hermione.

'Sorry, but you don't make a very good Father Christmas,' said Harry.

'I'll take that as a compliment, meaning I'm not fat,' said Hermione. 'Anyway, you're right about the forgiving thing. I forgave you after all.'

'For what?'

'For staying away from me for so long,' said Hermione. 'For all your dalliances with other girls when you could have been giving me a chance.'

'Ah, you had my _dalliances_ in mind,' said Harry. 'Now I understand the 'ho, ho, ho'. Anyone particular in mind?'

'Take your pick,' said Hermione sharply.

'Me-ow!' said Harry mimicking a cat. 'Speaking of which, do you think it's hygienic to cook with Crookshanks in here?'

The bandy legged cat stopped circling Harry's legs and eyed him mutinously.

'Crookshanks isn't diseased, are you Crookshanks?' said Hermione scooping her cat into her arms.

'I'm sure he isn't,' said Harry. 'But if I get any ginger hairs in my food you and I will be swapping plates!'

'How romantic!' cried Hermione. 'I have missed Crookshanks, though. Would it be okay to take him back home with us tonight?'

'We'll be like a real family then,' Harry teased as he smoothed Crookshanks. 'Yeah, why not. He'll bring some colour to the place if nothing else.'

Harry and Hermione were joined by the Weasley's for dinner later. As usual there was very little conversation, aside from the odd compliment on the food. Once all the plates had been cleared most of the family removed themselves back to the living room. Harry, however, went into the garden for some air and to shake off the depression which always descended on him when the grief of the others got too much. He was surprised to find himself presently joined in the garden by Fleur.

'Ello, 'Arry,' she said. 'Zat was a vury nice deener. I must compliment you.'

'It was mostly Hermione,' he replied. 'I didn't do much.'

'You seem vury close, you and 'Er-my-o-nee,' said Fleur. 'It is obvious zat you 'ave great affection for each uzzer.'

'Is it?' said Harry, thinking worriedly about Ron.

'Oh yes,' said Fleur. 'I zink it is wonderful. Zat anyone can be 'appy at a time such as zis – it is so good to see.'

Harry was hit by a thunderbolt of understanding. In all the time that everyone was grieving over Charlie's death it seemed as though all thoughts of the wedding of Fleur and Bill had been forgotten.

'Of course,' said Harry. 'The wedding was supposed to be soon. Has it been put off?'

'I do not know,' said Fleur sadly. 'Bill az not said anyzing, and I do not want to mention it. It is a difficult time.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry. 'It must be hard for you, too. I bet you don't get much consideration in all this.'

'You are so lovely, 'Arry,' said Fleur in her seductive French tones. 'But dere is no need to feel sorry for me, not for something like dis. Bill is to be my husband and I love him, our marriage will wait while he grieves.'

Harry felt a pang of pity for Fleur so strong it reminded him of the time when he met Luna Lovegood looking for her stolen possessions. He felt angry that she should be excluded; she was to be part of the family after all.

'You shouldn't feel like an outsider,' said Harry. 'Not like me and Hermione do. Bill is your fiancé; this is going to be your family. They shouldn't keep you out.'

'I cannot intrude,' said Fleur. 'The boys are okay with me, and Molly is better than she was. Some people want to keep me far away though.'

Harry's anger boiled. He knew, of course, to whom Fleur was referring.

'I wouldn't pay _her_ any attention,' said Harry angrily. 'She's just a petty brat when something isn't to her liking. Ignore her, that's the best way.'

'I try,' said Fleur sounding pitiful. 'But she calls me a name. I do not know what zis means but it cannot be nice.'

'Listen to me,' said Harry forcefully. 'She is the one who isn't nice. You're great, you really are. Bill knows how lucky he is, I'm sure of it. And if you're good enough for him you should be good enough for the rest of them. Don't be afraid to offer you're support, I'm sure they'll appreciate it.'

'Thank you, 'Arry,' said Fleur. She stood up, for they had been sitting on the wall facing the kitchen, and kissed Harry on the cheek. 'Er-my-o-nee is one lucky girl to 'ave you.'

With that she swept away from him and into the house. Harry was about to follow her inside when he was called from the other side of the garden. He followed the voice to find Bill standing in a shrubbery smoking a long pipe.

'Mum doesn't like it,' said Bill holding the pipe up. 'I gave it up years ago but I needed some to calm me down after what's happened.'

'I can imagine,' said Harry.

'I saw you talking with Fleur,' said Bill blowing smoke rings into the chilly night air. 'Not trying to steal my fiancé, are you?'

'Like I could,' said Harry glad to see the joking look on Bill's face. 'But, if you don't mind me saying, I think you could do with paying her a bit more attention.'

'Excuse me?'

'I know you've lost your brother,' said Harry unabashed by Bill's accusing tone, 'but you do have a fiancé who loves you very much and who is grieving too. She needs you, needs to feel she can support you. What she doesn't need is to feel excluded by a family she has tried damned hard to make love her as I know you do. And they are efforts falling on deaf ears. You could spare a little of your time on her, despite how difficult this time is for all of you.'

Bill considered Harry as if seeing him properly for the first time. 'You're growing into a wise man, Harry. Dumbledore would be proud of you. I hadn't thought of it like that. I've been a terrible partner, haven't I?'

'No, you've lost a brother to Voldemort,' said Harry. 'You've got an excuse, but it goes only so far.'

'Did she tell you this, Fleur?' said Bill. 'Did she say she's unhappy?'

'You have lost a brother, how else do you think she's going to feel?' said Harry.

'I meant with me, is she unhappy about that?'

'I don't think I'm the one you should be asking these questions to,' said Harry.

'But I am,' said Bill. 'Please, Harry?'

'No, she isn't unhappy,' said Harry. 'But she has prepared for a wedding that she isn't sure her fiancé wants to go through with any time soon. And she can't say anything to you because she thinks it will make her look selfish.'

'Why hasn't she said any of this to me?'

'She shouldn't have to, should she?' said Harry. 'I'm going to go back inside. Just consider this – as much as your family is hurting they can cling to each other for support. Fleur only has you. Spare some of yourself for her.'

Satisfied at having said his piece, Harry made his way back indoors. He found Hermione washing dishes in the sink, walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. He used his chin to brush Hermione's hair behind her ear and rested his head in the crook of her neck.

'Do you think that's a good idea?' said Hermione, backing into him.

'Do you think I care?' Harry replied, gently kissing Hermione's neck. He felt a shiver run through her skin and goose bumps popped up against his cheek.

'Harry,' said Hermione breathlessly. 'Don't do that.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry. 'What did I do wrong?'

'Nothing, that's the problem,' said Hermione smiling. 'Just don't kiss me there. I'm really sensitive on my neck. The slightest touch and I go nuts. It's hardly appropriate.'

'Really sensitive, eh?' said Harry mischievously. 'I'll keep that in mind.'

'You'd better,' said Hermione turning round. She looked around before giving him a quick kiss and moving away. Harry noticed she seemed to be almost skipping, a sight he found very odd indeed.

'Well at least I know the real reason we broke up,' said a voice from the doorway. Harry looked up to see Ginny standing there looking furious.

'That wasn't why we broke up, but if it makes you feel better believe it by all means,' said Harry, matching her angry tone with one of his own.

'You could have just said,' said Ginny fiercely, 'instead of lying to me. You could have just been honest about liking someone else.'

'I hadn't realised it myself then,' said Harry. 'I've got you to thank, really. If you hadn't been so horrid to me then I might not have wanted to leave here in the first place. Then Hermione wouldn't have come to me and I might never have worked it out.'

'Funny how you can be so easy breaking up your best friend's relationship,' said Ginny. 'I would never have thought you were so selfish.'

'That's rich coming from you,' said Harry. 'Dean Thomas was just another notch on your bedpost, I suppose. I think we're mixing up the easy one out of you and me.'

Ginny fumed and Harry could almost sense the rage coming off her so acted first.

'Don't even think about hexing me,' said Harry, who felt for his own wand in any case. 'You may impress everyone with that little Bat-Bogey Hex of yours but I'm preparing an arsenal of weapons to fight Voldemort with. If you want to compare spell strength I'm all for it. But I have some tissues to wipe up those flying boogies you like to conjure.'

'I hope you wouldn't seriously curse my sister,' said Ron who had entered the kitchen after hearing the commotion. 'I can forgive you for breaking up with her but I'm not too sure about breaking her nose.'

'Yeah, do you think you could take us both?' said Ginny arrogantly.

Ron snapped towards her. 'Shut up, Ginny! Harry could probably take us both but I wouldn't even try. I wouldn't want to fight him.'

'But he broke you and Hermione up,' said Ginny, a trace of desperation in her voice. 'Doesn't that make you mad?'

'Harry didn't break us up,' said Ron. 'Me and Hermione were responsible for that. We weren't right for each other and we would have come apart sooner or later. We didn't need anyone's help to do that.'

Ginny looked stumped. She clearly hadn't counted on this response.

'Besides,' Ron continued. 'If you did manage to do anything to Harry do you think Hermione wouldn't react? She's the only person whose power can compare to Harry's and there's an old saying about a woman scorned. Hermione could hex you to bits.'

'Aaargh, Ron! Sometimes I just can't believe you! I can't _believe_ you!' said Ginny angrily before turning on her heel and storming out.

'Sorry about that,' said Ron. 'You know what she's like. She'll get over it – no offence or anything.'

'None taken,' said Harry smirking. 'I wouldn't really have cursed her, you know.'

'I know,' said Ron. 'Though I could've understood if you had.'

For the first time in what Harry deeply realised was ages, they laughed together. Harry was shocked by how much he had missed it.

'So,' said Ron looking shrewd. 'You and Hermione, eh?'

'Just a little,' said Harry grinning back.

'Good for you, mate,' said Ron.

'You mean that?' said Harry. 'I thought you'd be mad.'

'Nah,' said Ron waving his hand. 'I've had a lot of time to stew. Me and her weren't right, dunno why. There was just something missing, something you and her have obviously got. I've been watching you, seeing how you look at each other. We didn't have that. I always thought there was something between you and I often wondered why you hadn't given it a go.'

'You should have said something to me, opened my eyes a bit sooner,' said Harry.

'Yeah, maybe. You are a bit blind when it comes to this sort of thing. But I'm over it; I was more angry that I'd lost her than anything. I treated her a bit like a possession but I've had a lot of time on my own since you've been gone and I've woken up to myself. I've, um, been a bit lonely to be honest. Then you and Hermione tell me stories about going after Horcruxes and stuff and I realised I've been an idiot. I really want to make it up to Hermione. Do you think she'll let me?'

'You'll have to work hard,' said Harry. 'You really hurt her with some of the things you said. She doesn't always let it show but she's really sensitive. She feels insults really badly.'

'I will make it up to her,' said Ron. 'If it takes me ten years I'll do it. Can I ask you a question?'

'Since when have you had to ask if you can ask a question?'

'I was just checking,' said Ron. 'I just want to ask if I can come with you when you find the next Horcrux?'

'If that's what you want I won't say no,' said Harry. 'I think I could use all the help I can get to destroy them. Besides, I don't want Hermione to do all the dirty work alone. I already feel really guilty about what I made her do with the last one. I know I couldn't have done it to her.'

'I bet she doesn't blame you,' said Ron. 'She wouldn't look at you with those puppy dog eyes if she did!'

'Shut up!' said Harry, grinning.

Charlie was buried in a quiet ceremony at the end of the week in the cemetery just outside the village. Mr Weasley stood up to deliver the eulogy, something Harry thought was very brave considering he had barely spoken for a week, and he was buried with enchantments for a safe passage into the next world. Harry found this part very uncomfortable; he had considered in fleeting moments the nature of life after death, especially after his chat with Nearly Headless Nick after Sirius had died, and he wondered morbidly about the nature of it all.

He and Hermione left the cemetery hand in hand next to Ron and the twins. The latter strode on ahead leaving the three left to walk on in silence.

'Strange, isn't it?' said Ron, more to himself than anyone. 'It happened days ago but it only feels like he's gone now. Isn't that weird?'

'It's the finality of the ceremony,' said Hermione. 'It's a last chance to say goodbye. After that, the healing process can begin.'

'I suppose,' said Ron doubtfully. He looked closer to tears than Harry had ever seen him since he had arrived with Hagrid that night. 'At least there's some good news on the horizon.'

'What?' asked Harry.

'Fleur and Bill are going to go ahead with the wedding,' said Ron. 'They had a chat with mum last night and they agreed it was what Charlie would have wanted. Bit weird, I think, but its happening.'

It was true. After the wake the next few days saw a slow return to a passable impression of normality. Mrs Weasley, who Harry reckoned was compensating for her grief over Charlie by throwing herself back into the wedding plans, busied herself with the catering arrangements while Fleur concentrated on her dress and flowers and Bill sent owls to all the guests who had been invited to tell them it was going ahead.

Harry and Hermione were spending less time at the Burrow and more time at Grimmauld Place, where Ron was a daily visitor. There spent most of their time poring over the list of spells Dumbledore had created, testing them on each other, and also planning for the last of the Horcrux hunts.

'The way I see it,' said Harry, 'three of the Horcruxes are down. The diary, the ring and something that belonged to Gryffindor. That leaves the locket, the cup and the snake.'

'But didn't that note say the locket had been destroyed?' asked Ron.

'I'm not going to take that chance,' said Harry. 'That ring nearly killed Dumbledore, who was more powerful than any wizard going. Whoever this R.A.B person is we have to track them down and make sure the locket is gone, or destroy that ourselves. Now, Voldemort's snake goes everywhere with him and at some stage he and I are going to meet again. At that battle the snake will be destroyed before I finish the rest of Voldemort. That means we are looking for the cup or who this R.A.B person is. Hermione I think that is your area of expertise.'

'I'll do my best,' said Hermione. 'But I might need the Hogwarts library.'

'McGonagall said we can come and go as we please,' said Harry. 'That isn't a problem. Finding the cup will be trickier, but Voldemort first found it working at Borgin and Burkes that might be a good place to start.'

'I don't think they'll give up information like that very easily,' said Ron.

'Look, if Draco bloody Malfoy can bully Borgin I'm pretty sure I can scare seven shades of shite out of him!' said Harry passionately.

They were all plans for the future, though, for attending the wedding came first and Harry placed a high priority on the event. The day came, two weeks after Charlie had been buried, and the ceremony was held in the field outside the Burrow. A huge marquee had been erected the size of a football field and was filled with over a hundred circular tables, a stage, a bar and a dance floor. Everything was white, from the tablecloths to the seat cushions, and it was a dazzling sight, not least because of the thousands of live fairies clustered at the top of the marquee.

The ceremony itself was conducted at the top of Stoatshead Hill. A small stage had been set up along with seats for the guests. The minister arrived and beckoned Bill towards him. Not long after, Ginny, looking grumpy, and Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, who beamed at everyone and waved madly at Harry when she caught his eye, came walking down the aisle scattering handfuls of red and white rose petals. Once they were seated the wedding march was struck up and Fleur, accompanied by her father, made her way to the front. She looked stunning in a flowing gown which glittered and twinkled in the early morning sunlight. Harry took one look at her father at realised right away that it wasn't from him that Fleur had received her breathtaking looks.

Harry found himself quite surprised at how boring the wedding ceremony actually was. As soon as the minister started talking Harry found his attention wandering. Gabrielle looked around at him occasionally and waved, reminding Harry poignantly of Ginny when she was younger and star struck by him. The rest of Fleur's family seemed a pretty rigid bunch and Harry fancied that Fleur's initial fastidious personality traits had descended from several generations of French wizards who seemed to think a little too much of themselves.

All in all Harry was glad when the minister pronounced Bill and Fleur man and wife. He was surprised that the minister hadn't invited Bill to kiss his bride, but then remembered he wasn't watching a Hollywood movie. Row by row the congregation followed Bill and Fleur from the top of Stoatshead Hill back towards the Burrow, where most of the guests who weren't invited to the ceremony had now arrived. Ron parted with Harry and Hermione at the entrance to the marquee, as all the family were seated together, and Harry found their places on a little map just inside the huge tent.

'Right at the front,' he said to Hermione, reading from the map. 'Look! We're sat with Neville and Luna. I didn't even know they'd been invited.'

'Looks like half the Wizarding community has been,' said Hermione, indicating the massed seats. 'Come on lets get there before it gets too congested.'

They weaved their way through the crowd and found their table. It was right at the front next to an aisle separating the marquee in two. Harry, being a gentleman, held Hermione's seat for her, but banged it too hard into her legs as he pushed it in, causing her to collapse into it.

'Sorry,' he said, trying not to laugh.

'It's your first time, so I'll forgive you,' said Hermione rubbing behind her knee. 'Just be a bit gentler next time.'

Harry sat down and picked up a bottle of wine from the centre of the table.

'I've never had wine before, not really anyway,' said Harry.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I snuck some from the Dursleys one Christmas,' said Harry. 'Just to try, you know. I didn't like it much.'

Despite this recollection Harry poured full glasses for himself and Hermione. He sipped at his, mimicking Hermione, and found that the taste wasn't at all as bad as he remembered.

'That's not bad, is it?' said Harry, sipping larger amounts.

'No, it's quite nice,' Hermione replied. 'Just don't go getting drunk now.'

'Why? Be too tempted to take advantage of me, would you?' Harry teased.

'That's a thought,' said Hermione mischievously. 'More?'

Before Harry could answer a dreamy voice floated over to them. Luna had arrived with Neville in tow.

'Hello,' she said. 'I thought I'd find Neville before coming to sit down. He does get a bit backwards at things sometimes.'

Harry, as always, was alarmed at Luna's complete ease with speaking uncomfortable truths. In this case, though, he thought she might have been right in her actions.

'Hi,' said Hermione brightly. 'Have you both come on your own?'

'Oh no,' said Neville, who was wearing an odd black shirt and green tie combination. 'Gran's over there with some of the, er, _senior_ people. They all seemed to have been grouped together.'

'And Dad's with some people from the Daily Prophet,' said Luna. 'They'll have good fun chatting about the latest news on the fire-breathing Elbelows spotted near Cornwall.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows but seemed to concede there was little point in arguing with Luna. Harry noticed she looked rather pretty in a forget-me-not blue dress with matching sparkly shoes. She seemed to be wearing her hair differently too and Harry thought she looked much more normal for it. The four of them talked about what they had been doing since the end of school, Harry and Hermione lying so much that it was a surprise their noses didn't grow a foot or two, and Luna told them all about the new regime at Hogwarts.

'It isn't really the same, you know,' she said dreamily. 'It's all about work and there's hardly any fun. They've stopped Quidditch, because it isn't safe for the players to be out late training, and there won't be any Hogsmeade trips until the war is over.'

'Have many people gone back?' asked Harry swallowing a potato, as the meals had been served by this time.

'Not many,' said Luna. 'There aren't any Slytherins at all. But they are all evil, aren't they? Most Gryffindors seem to be back and about half from the other houses, but the school does feel rather empty. It's more lonely than usual.'

Harry again felt sorry for Luna, imagining her wandering the halls of Hogwarts alone but for the taunts and people stealing her things. She seemed cheery enough, though, but Harry couldn't help feeling that was just her way and pitying her even more because of it.

The wine, Harry noticed, was having an unusual effect on him. He had never in his life been anywhere near drunk but by the time he had polished off his chocolate pudding he fancied himself quite close to it. Everything seemed warm, especially his head, and the world seemed to wobble if he moved too sharply. And, which was the most alarming aspect, he was giggling. Giggling like a crazy person. But he wasn't the only one. Their entire table was in fits of laughter over what some deep and impenetrable part of Harry's brain knew was ridiculous. He, Hermione and Neville could blame the wine but Luna was just mad that way naturally.

After the speeches, during which Bill's best man entertained them all with embarrassing tales from their childhood, husband and wife took to the dance floor. The band struck up their number and Bill and Fleur began some crazy jive to the music. They were soon joined by the best man and his wife, Mr and Mrs Weasley, several other couples Harry didn't know and George with a girl Harry recognised as Verity, the girl from the twins' joke shop.

'Let's all go and dance,' said Harry. 'It'll be a laugh.'

'I'm not dancing, said Hermione flatly.

'You owe me a dance from three years ago,' said Harry. 'Besides, if you'll dance with Victor Krum you can dance with me. Come on.'

Harry grabbed Hermione by the wrist and dragged her to the floor, where Neville and Luna joined them. They stayed there for ages, number after number, while others came and went. After a time they were joined by Ron, who looked as worse for wear as Harry felt.

'Mind if I – _hic_ – join you?' he said ambling over.

'Are you sure you can stand up?' asked Harry.

'What? Oh yeah, s'no problem, s'no problem,' said Ron. 'Strong stuff that Firewhiskey. Oh, hello Luna, you a'right?'

'Yes, thank you,' said Luna serenely. 'Dad says too much Firewhiskey can make your face explode.'

Ron looked horrified and starting grabbing his face. He looked at Hermione who shook her head. Ron calmed down and turned back to Luna.

'You're funny, you know?' he said. 'You make me _laugh _like you wouldn't believe. Do some commentary again, like we're at Quidditch.'

An odd thought struck Harry as he watched Ron talking to Luna. As quickly as it arrived it filtered away from his mind as impossible. But there was something about the way Ron was looking at Luna, not only because he didn't seem able to keep his eyes on her face. Hermione noticed this too.

'Pure class, isn't he?' she called over the music. 'You know, in some countries that's not legal.'

'I'm not sure it is here,' said Harry. 'Is she sixteen yet?'

'I'm not sure,' said Hermione anxiously.

'You're lucky I'm a gentleman,' said Harry. 'Because I could do that to you. Have I told you how amazing you look in that dress?'

'No, but the wine you've drunk just did,' said Hermione, laughing and blushing at the same time. 'You look pretty gorgeous yourself. Those dress robes bring out your eyes really nicely. I've been having Yule Ball flashbacks all day.'

'Why? You weren't with me,' said Harry.

'My eyes were though,' said Hermione. 'And they had a great time.'

Harry pulled her to him and kissed her. Their lips locked firmly but gently, slowly massaging each other in time to the music. Harry could hear distant whooping but was oblivious of it all, his mind only on Hermione's lips and the patterns her hand was tracing through his hair.

'I didn't know you two were together,' said Luna.

'Me either,' said Neville, who looked shocked. 'You kept that one quiet, Harry.'

'Well I haven't been in school, have I,' said Harry. 'This has all happened in the summer.'

'But what about you and Ron's sister?' said Luna, patently awkward in all her words. 'Weren't you going out?'

'That ended at Dumbledore's funeral,' Harry explained.

'That wasn't very nice,' Luna mused. 'You could have chosen lots of nicer times to do it.'

'So is she available then, Ginny?' said Neville, sounding slightly hopeful.

'Yeah, but I wouldn't bother,' said Harry. 'She's more trouble than she's worth.'

'_Intoxico!'_ yelled Hermione suddenly. Harry looked to her and saw her wand out pointing behind him. He turned just in time to see the end of Ginny performing a wild pirouette to the floor. She was holding an empty wine glass in her hand.

'You know,' said Luna distantly. 'I think she was going to hit you with that. I said you should have finished were her nicely.'

'Was that one of the new spells we've been looking at?' Harry asked Hermione. 'What did it do?'

'It was the Light-Head Charm,' explained Hermione. 'And, as it says, it makes you light headed. Only I think Ginny might have been sneaking a bit of wine and was a bit dizzy already.'

'Nice effect though,' said Harry. 'But I think we should leave the dance floor for a bit. People are starting to stare.'

Harry led the way back to their seats and soon after the others followed along with Ron. They sat and chatted, drank more wine and even some Firewhiskey Ron insisted they had. Harry didn't like it; it burned in his throat and he thought there was a realistic chance of him actually breathing fire, though this didn't come to fruition.

It was quite a while later in the evening, when they had danced some more but had sat down again in a state of near exhaustion, that the drunken ramble Harry had been expecting from Ron finally arrived. Their table was now cluttered with a collection of both empty and half-empty wine and shot glasses and several bottles of Butterbeer. There was a lull in the conversation when Harry's fears were realised.

'You know,' Ron was saying to Luna, 'this is a – _hic –_ hard time for me to talk. And it's hard for me to talk at a time like this – _hic _– he was my brother, you know, and I loved him very much. It isn't _– hic _– easy for me to say stuff like this. And I didn't say it to him at all. To Charlie!'

Ron raised his glass and gave a phantom toast to the table, spilling half his drink all over the place.

'It's never easy when you lose someone,' said Luna serenely. 'I still feel sad about my mum sometimes. But I know I'll see her again when I die.'

'You know what?' said Ron. 'You're mad! You might even say "Loony"! Ha, Ha!'

'I don't like being called that,' said Luna as though thinking aloud.

'I don't mean it in a bad way,' said Ron loudly. 'I think it's brilliant. You have all these mad ideas and think they are real. It's cute.'

Luna looked more surprised than usual.

'You think I'm cute?' she asked sheepishly.

'Well, in that dress you look more than cute, but your crazy ideas are cute, yeah,' said Ron.

For the first time Harry could remember, Luna actually looked a little flustered and embarrassed. Ron was casting his head randomly around the room. After resting for a few moments on the dance floor he turned back to Luna and said, in a highly drunk and slurring voice,

'Hey Luna, do you wanna dance with me? I feel like a dance.'

If Harry was ashamed at the manner of Ron's drunken invitation then he was positively gob smacked at Luna's response.

'Yes, alright. Just please try not to step on my toes, you do have rather large feet.'

As Luna was yanked to her feet by Ron, Harry caught a glimpse of her bizarre earrings. They were circular and hung close to her ear lobes and seemed to be filled with what looked like liquid metal. Harry chortled to himself; it just wouldn't be Luna without at least one aspect of oddity.

'Isn't that funny?' Hermione whispered in Harry's ear. 'Ron and Luna? You don't think…'

'Nah, not possible,' said Harry.

But on a second look he wasn't quite so sure.

For Ron and Luna were holding each other very close as they slow danced. True, they weren't the most graceful of the half dozen or so couples rotating around the floor, but Harry wouldn't have expected them to be. Despite this there was some unmistakable chemistry between them.

'I think we should add that to our list of things to do,' said Hermione.

'What?'

'Pair those two up,' said Hermione.

'Fancy yourself as a cupid, do you?' asked Harry. 'I know sometimes your wear _wings_ Hermione but I've never seen them on your back.'

'Harry, that's vile,' said Hermione, tutting. 'But don't you think that's a good idea?'

'Oh yeah,' he cried. 'Because we've been so good in the romance department ourselves!'

'We got together in the end,' Hermione pointed out. 'Yes, we took a few wrong turns between us but it all worked out rather nicely.'

'Talking about working out,' said Harry, nodding at the dance floor. 'Ron's tongue must be getting pretty strong.'

'Poor Luna,' said Hermione sadly. 'Ron's technique isn't particularly refined.'

'Maybe he just had a bad teacher,' Harry teased.

'You think so?' said Hermione. 'Get your cloak, Harry, we're leaving.'

'What have I said wrong?' he asked.

'Nothing,' said Hermione, looking shrewd. 'But I just want to get you home, show you just how good a teacher I can be.'

Harry gulped, grabbed his cloak and was Apparating home before he could even form the words 'raging hormones'. In a way he felt quite deviant; after all, it didn't say much for him that he was looking forward to being taken advantage of in his drunken state. But there was a little part of him, the competitive side, that was relishing Hermione's 'lessons'. After all, Harry thought, anything Ron can do…


	12. Teachers and Traitors

A/N !: I just want to offer a heartfelt thank you to all the people troubling themselves to read this fic. You are all wonderful people and this is why I love this community so much. The reviews some of you have left have been absolutely mind blowing and I'm sure I don't deserve such praise as this. I have posted this story of ff net and portkey and almost all the reviews have been positive and I want to try and express my gratitude. Unfortunately, I don't have the vocabulary. For the person who said this story was, or should be, the "standard bearer for all post-HBP fics" I can offer only deep thanks across the online universe, not that I think that's correct of course. Nevertheless, I've never felt more a part of this fandom. Thank you all.

That said, here's chapter 12, which you'll probably decide you all hate and I won't get another review!!! I wrestled long and hard with conflicts about how to start this chapter but the overriding wish seemed to be for a bit of steam between the one true ship we all love. So that's how it starts. For all you easily offended, though, I promise its more Sweet Valley Hogwarts than Ginny Does Dallas! Enjoy (I hope)!

A/N 2: After finishing this chapter I realised that it was too long to include what I'd wanted, so if its crappy and confusing I apologise. I will try to right those wrongs in the next instalment. In the words of JKR, 'its like two parts of the same thing'. Lets hope is isn't as bad as her part one eh…..

False Disclaimer: I own all the rights to Harry Potter, except the merchandising - I'm going to fire my agent!!!

Chapter 12 – Teachers and Traitors

Hermione had been gone for over half an hour. She had told Harry to wait in the living room while she prepared her 'classroom' upstairs. Harry wasn't sure what this meant but he was sure that he'd never been more frightened, or excited, in his life. He paced the room, sat down feeling sick, played with his hair, felt afraid of his drunkenness turning into a hangover in the morning, and paced some more. When he thought he could take no more of his own thoughts a note zoomed out of the fire and hit him in the head.

_'Harry, come here,'_ it said simply in Hermione's writing. The paper, Harry noticed, was oddly scented and coloured. It did little to ease his nerves.

Harry climbed the stairs as slowly as his jelly legs would allow him. His heart was pumping hard as he stopped outside the only door with light around it. The rest of the corridor was completely dark. Harry knocked and waited until Hermione called back to him to come in. The room was lit by few candles, which cast flickering and insubstantial light around the walls. At the centre was the king sized bed that took up most of the floor and was now surrounded by several more candles and covered in petals that Harry suspected might have been stolen from the wedding. Hermione was leaning seductively against the end of the huge four-poster and Harry gasped at what she was wearing – a silver silk negligee with thin straps and a low cut. Harry felt his mind overload.

'Harry, come here,' said Hermione quietly. She sounded as unlike herself as Harry could ever imagine she was able. She beckoned him by slowly bending her index finger and Harry, as though commanded by an invisible power, obeyed. He reached Hermione, his eyes darting and flickering over every inch of what he was fully appreciating was a very sexy frame.

'Do you like my new nightie?' she said, the innocence of her words baffling Harry, whose hormones were fast replacing his fear.

'Where did you get it?' he asked.

'Madam Malkins has a special mail-order service just for girls,' said Hermione. 'You haven't answered my question, though.'

'I love it,' said Harry, his eyes still in constant transit.

'I'll get you one, if you like,' Hermione joked.

'Mmm,' said Harry. 'I've never seen you wear anything like this.'

'Oh yeah, like you would have!' Hermione exclaimed. 'I'm sure this would have looked great around the Common Room or at the Burrow.'

'I would have liked it,' said Harry.'

'That's why I bought it,' said Hermione. 'For the right occasion when I'd want you to like it.'

'A-and that's now?'

'Uh-huh,' said Hermione. 'If you want to, of course.'

'I'm yours,' said Harry. 'You're my teacher; I want to be your pet.'

Hermione smiled. 'Then let's go to class.'

Harry allowed Hermione to slip her hands around his neck and untie his cloak before letting it slip to the floor. His dress robes came next, the clasps at his neck slowly unhooked before joining his cloak on the other side of the room leaving him standing in just his underwear. He saw Hermione swallow deeply before running her hands uncertainly over his chest. It was at this time that he realised this was probably the first time she'd ever done anything like this either and was likely as nervous and unsure as he was.

As such they led each other to the rose-scented bed and helped each other down. The kissed softly and gently and for the first time Harry ran his hands over Hermione's curves. She trembled at each little touch and little gasps escaped her lips in between kisses. Harry, for his part, was trying to suppress such noises himself, which wasn't easy as Hermione's dainty fingers were sending shockwaves through him the likes of which he didn't even know existed.

This lasted for ten minutes at least and Harry felt he would have been happy to stay there forever. Hermione, however, seemed buoyed by the start of the whole thing and her earlier bravado returned. She flipped Harry onto his back and straddled him before reaching onto the bedside table. From there she drew a shallow dish, the contents of which Harry couldn't see. Hermione took her wand and placed it on the underside of the dish and although she didn't speak Harry could tell she was performing some spell. After a minute or so she dipped her finger into the bowl, seemed satisfied at whatever she had done and set her wand aside.

'I've never done this before,' she said nervously. 'So if I do it wrong don't laugh, okay?'

'I won't ever laugh at you again,' said Harry, reaching up to cup Hermione's face in the soft candlelight. 'Whatever you are going to do, it will be perfect. Everything about you is.'

Hermione smiled and any lingering doubts seemed to wash away. Her sultry look returned and she dipped her fingers into the bowl once again. She scooped up some of the contents and rubbed it across Harry's chest before laying the bowl down. Harry was surprised that the substance on his skin was warm, but was barely ending this thought when Hermione began to smooth it across his chest. It felt slick and oily and caused Hermione's hands to slip across Harry's skin. A few times one slipped right off and nearly tickled his armpit, but he didn't care. He was in total euphoria under her ministrations.

The massage went on for at least twenty minutes until Harry was oily from neck to toe, front and back. Hermione flipped him back over again and returned to her position straddling him, which was both the best and worst positions he could think of. The strain on his groin was almost unbearable.

'We'll see to that in good time,' said Hermione, her voice still unsure as she spoke in tongues totally new to her. 'But first things first.'

'What's that?'

'It's your turn,' said Hermione.

'But I don't know what to do,' said Harry.

'Then let this be lesson number one.'

With that she slipped the straps from her shoulders and let her flimsy nightgown fall away. She wore that look of wanting approval but this time Harry knew words would never explain how he felt at the sight. Instead, he simply smiled, thinking that this was the best night of his life, and reached over for the dish of massage oil…

After a night of inexperienced activity, morning light filtered into the room and fell across Harry's eyes. His first thought was that he didn't feel sick, so he had avoided a hangover. Then he felt the bushy expanse tickling his chest and all thoughts of the previous night rushed in. He couldn't be sure, of course, but he felt that the thoughts had produced the broadest smile he had ever worn. He knew, without any doubt, that the next time he needed a Patronus this would be the memory he would use.

He lay there for some time just cradling Hermione's sleeping form in his arms, which he didn't care were already half-numb from the pressure. He was careful to be gentle to avoid waking her but he was so fascinated by the softness of the skin at weird places, like behind her shoulder and down her back, that he just spent the best part of an hour stroking her until she began to stir. Waking, she looked up at him and smiled.

'Morning,' she said tiredly.

'You know,' said Harry. 'I think I want you as a pet. Your skin feels lush to stroke.'

'I don't like I'd like drinking from a bowl, though,' said Hermione hitching herself up. She looked questioningly at Harry for several moments.

'What is it?' he asked eventually.

'Any regrets?' she asked slowly.

'None,' Harry grinned. 'You?'

'Yes, one,' said Hermione.

'What?' asked Harry, his face falling.

'That we didn't do this sooner,' Hermione smiled holding him close. 'That was the most amazing thing ever.'

'And it's free,' said Harry. 'They should charge for that sort of pleasure.'

'Some people do,' Hermione pointed out.

'Where did you learn to do all that…that _stuff_?' Harry asked. 'You really were incredible.'

'Thanks,' Hermione said, grinning broadly. 'Never read _Witch Weekly_ have you? It has more that just the _Most Charming Smile Award_, you know.'

'Remind me to write them a thank you note,' said Harry kissing the top of Hermione's head.

'Do you think we should get up?' she asked.

'No,' said Harry.

'Me neither. But I think we'd better.'

'Do we have to?' Harry moaned, snuggling in. 'It's so comfy here.'

'I know,' Hermione said, equally dismayed at the prospect of getting up. 'But there are plenty of nights to come, and plenty of _Witch Weekly_ ideas I want to try.'

'I wonder how everyone else fared last night,' said Harry as he got up and started to dress.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, Ron and Luna were getting on rather well and poor Neville, we left him on his own. I hope he isn't mad at us.'

'I doubt he will be,' said Hermione. 'But Harry, I do want to ask you one thing. Please keep what happens here between us. Don't go bragging to anyone. Let's just keep the details to ourselves, okay?'

'Like I'd do that,' said Harry. 'I'm not that insensitive a wart, you know.'

'No, but you are a boy. And I know how boys are when they get together.'

'Boys getting together is one thought I try to avoid,' said Harry smirking.

'You may come across as all heroic and pretty,' said Hermione looking at him pityingly, 'but in the end you think like all boys. How do we girls ever choose between you?'

'Must be destiny,' said Harry. 'I go through two useless girls to find you. You have three lovers before realising who you'd see yourself with in the Mirror of Erised.'

'How do you know I'd see that?' said Hermione. 'My hearts' desire might not have anything to do with that sort of thing. I'm not a floozy, you know.'

'You're my floozy,' said Harry.

'Well, that's different,' said Hermione coming over and kissing him. 'I'll get breakfast going.'

October arrived with several cold days announcing the end of the summer heat wave. The normally draughty rooms of Grimmauld Place became noticeably colder and windows thrown open in search of a non-existent breeze for the past couple of months were shut up once more. The gloom of the dimming sunlight was not lost on Harry who paired the sight of it with the feelings of frustration he was experiencing on the Horcrux front.

He and Hermione spent most of their time in the large drawing room where, along with Ron when he visited, they studied Dumbledore's spells, scanned the Daily Prophet for stories about the Death Eaters and drew up lists of possible locations for the Horcruxes. Hermione spent some time away from the house poring over the archives of the Hogwarts library. Her task focused on finding the identity of the mysterious R.A.B but so far the list of possible targets was quite large. While she worked hard on scaling this down to something realistic, Harry and Ron worked to improve their defensive spell work and invent new spells for Harry to use.

'_Protego!'_ Harry yelled one afternoon as Ron tried to hex him. The force of the protective spell was enough to send Ron toppling backwards over the sofa.

'Perhaps you could use that as an attacking spell,' said Ron getting up and gingerly rubbing his shoulder.

'Sorry,' said Harry. 'I'm just trying to focus really hard. I've just got this feeling that something must happen soon. Voldemort can't be away from me for this long. Ron – can't you just _try_ saying his name?'

'No,' said Ron firmly. 'I'd rather not think about him at all.'

'Well you should,' said Harry. 'It might be best considering that it's quite likely you might come to face-to-face with him. What are you going to do if that happens? Turn around and say "Hello, You-Know-Who?"'

'I don't think I'd be speaking to him at all,' said Ron. 'But it isn't like you're on a first name basis with him either, is it?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'I was thinking about calling him Tom, like Dumbledore did. He said it linked him back to being just a normal wizard. And it annoyed him.'

'Oh yeah, because that's a great plan!' Ron exclaimed. 'Annoy the most dangerous sorcerer ever! Good idea, Harry.'

'Lets take a five minute rest, shall we?' said Harry. 'Hermione isn't here to shout at us so I'm sure we can risk it.'

'How's it going between you two anyway?' asked Ron as they both sat down.

'Really good,' said Harry. 'Its weird but perfect all at the same time, you know?'

'No,' said Ron. 'It all sounds a bit disgusting to me.'

Harry had a flashback of Hermione referring to Ron's emotional range being comparable to that of a teaspoon. Even then, it seems, she had Ron worked out.

'I suppose its all about the snogging for you then?' said Harry.

'Eh?'

'Well, all of your female interests seem to spend most of the time locked to your face. Lavender, Hermione a bit, now Luna.'

'What? What about Luna? She isn't a female interest!'

'Oh really?' said Harry. 'What about the wedding?'

'Oh, that,' said Ron going red. 'That was nothing.'

'It didn't look like nothing to me,' said Harry.

'Yeah, well,' said Ron. 'It was the drink. It'd been a long night.'

'Dunno why you're getting so defensive for,' said Harry. 'It's like you're embarrassed.'

'Well, to tell the truth, I am a bit.'

'Why? You spent half of last year snogging Lavender to death, why should this be any different?'

'It isn't, but it is,' said Ron. 'I mean, look who it was with! Loony Lovegood! As if my reputation wasn't bad enough already. The last thing I need is for people to be talking about me and Luna. I won't be able to go out in public.'

For the first time Harry felt like he saw a part of Ron on the surface that he always wished wasn't there down below. It was the part Hermione knew well, the part she often brought up in their rows.

'You know, I think it's a good job she had to go back to school,' said Harry. 'So she could get away from you.'

'What does that mean?' said Ron, affronted.

'It means that there isn't anything major wrong with Luna,' said Harry. 'Okay she comes across a bit odd sometimes, but we know her well enough to know that isn't true. She's nice and she doesn't have any bad intentions to anyone; she isn't two faced; she's loyal and she has time for everyone. People give her a really hard time, but she doesn't deserve it. And she's not bad looking either. She was willing to put up with your drunken antics at the wedding when most girls would have run a mile. Don't you think she deserves a little more consideration from you?'

'Whoa, Harry,' said Ron. 'I didn't mean it like that!'

'Well it certainly sounds that way,' said Harry.

'Since when have you become Luna's personal cheering section anyway?' asked Ron.

'Since I realised the value of true loyalty and friendship,' said Harry. 'Only two members of the DA came to help the night Dumbledore died. Her and Neville. That's it. The rest were too afraid but those two valued being part of it so much they jumped to action straight away. I abandoned them, Ron. Discarded them at the first hurdle. What does that say about me?'

'I think you're being a bit hard on yourself,' said Ron. 'You have your own life. It isn't your responsibility to fix the lives of everyone else.'

'No – you're wrong,' said Harry. 'It is.'

He appreciated it for the first time. He was the leading figure of hope in the magical community. For years it had been Dumbledore, even to him. But now he was the one. He was the one people looked to for the key to defeat Voldemort and free them. People would flock to him. He was the hero now. It was his duty to do good, to offer hope to all people, the way Dumbledore always had.

'There's somewhere I have to go,' said Harry suddenly, standing up. 'Someone I have to see.'

'Do you want me to come?' asked Ron.

'No, I have to see this person alone,' said Harry. 'Are you going to stay here?'

'Yeah, if that's okay,' said Ron. 'How long are you going to be?'

'Not sure. I'll see you later.'

With that he left the room and made his way outside. Moments later he had Apparated and faced the winged boars of Hogwarts once more. He opened the gates and walked inside, following the path towards the school. He waved to Hagrid tending pumpkins in the patch outside his hut and watched as a Thestral soared out of the wilderness in the Forbidden Forest before disappearing once again into its depths. It was unlucky, Harry thought, that he'd picked a time between lessons to plan this trip. As he moved between the huddle of students all faces turned in his direction and whispers passed around the place like a forest fire. Harry nodded to a few people who called his name but pushed through the crowds and vaulted the steps into the school.

He made his way through the corridors until he reached the Headmistress' office. The giant statue was across the staircase and Harry didn't know the password. Turning, he was on the move again with the staff room his target this time. He knocked on arrival and was beckoned to enter. The few teachers inside were surprised to see him; indeed, little Professor Flitwick toppled off the stool he was sitting on when Harry entered.

'Harry Potter!' boomed a jovial voice. 'What a surprise this is? Or should we say an honour?'

'The first will do, Professor Slughorn,' said Harry with an awkward grin. 'I didn't think you'd still be here without Dumbledore.'

'Well,' said Slughorn, who himself looked a little awkward now. 'Minerva did ask very nicely. And she can be quite as persuasive as Dumbledore, you know.'

'Speaking of Professor McGonagall,' said Harry. 'Do you know where she is? I need to speak with her.'

'I think she was in the library,' said Professor Sinistra, who Harry hadn't noticed in the corner. 'I saw her there earlier.'

'Thanks,' said Harry. 'Sorry I can't stop. Bye.'

And he was gone with requests for him to stay and chat ringing down the corridor after him.

True to Professor Sinistra's word Harry found Professor McGonagall in the library, where he'd completely forgotten Hermione was as well. This was an unexpected bonus as he suddenly felt as though he might need an ally in his request. Her surprise at seeing him was as measured as that of the other teachers.

'Potter, what a surprise to see you here,' she said as he approached.

'Everyone keeps saying that,' said Harry. 'It's like they all expect me to be dead by now.'

'Some of us do,' said Professor McGonagall looking at him sternly. 'I still think you'd be infinitely better off here. But I won't waste my breath trying to persuade you. What brings you here? Forgive me, how silly of me. I saw you at the wedding party. Checking she's in one piece are we?'

She glanced down at Hermione with a little smile.

'No,' said Harry. 'But it's good to see she is all the same. I actually came to see you, Professor.'

'I? What exactly can I do for you?'

'Well, I just wanted to run an idea I had by you,' said Harry. 'You probably won't go for it but I thought I'd give it a try anyway.'

'Don't mince words, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall. 'I am a busy woman. I don't have time for riddles.'

'I only have time for one myself, Professor, if you know what I mean.'

'I do, but I don't think you came here to trade bad jokes with me, Potter. So come on, out with it.'

'Well, I was thinking about things earlier and I remembered a couple of years back when I started a sort of secret Defence Against the Dark Arts class. A practical class.'

Hermione gave a little cough at this point and looked up at Harry.

'Oh, right. Well, it was Hermione's idea originally,' Harry corrected himself. 'But anyway, I was thinking that maybe I could restart it. I mean, I spend half my time practising defensive spells at home anyway but I could really use the resources here. And if I was here I might as well teach anyway who wants to learn anything like that, like I did before. It might even add some protection to the school and even prepare people for the real world. I mean, the war could last for ages, couldn't it.'

'Are you talking about teaching a lesson, or building an army?' said Professor McGonagall, who Harry could tell doubted the merits of this plan.

'A bit of both,' he said.

'At least you are honest,' said Professor McGonagall. 'What brought this idea about?'

'A few things,' said Harry. 'But I won't deny the idea of mobilising some kind of force against Voldemort was one of them. No-one else seems to want to go at him and I don't like the idea that he can pick us off one at a time. I know some pretty good stuff and I'm sure it could be a help, at a time when learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks can't be as important as a few solid hexes.'

'I can't say I approve of the idea of arming students,' said McGonagall. 'It seems irresponsible to me.'

'That's a no then,' said Harry mutinously.

'I hadn't finished, Potter,' said McGonagall. 'I was about to say that although I don't approve I wont deny that the concept has its merits. Not all the staff have returned, you know, and recruiting at a time like this has been a nightmare. Teachers have been doubling lessons to cover. It could be an advantage to be able to lighten the burden.'

'Please, Professor,' said Hermione joining in at last. 'It really could be useful.'

'I get the idea this was planned,' said McGonagall smiling lightly.

'Oh no, this is Harry's brainwave,' said Hermione. 'I didn't know anything about it until he just said. I could help plan lessons and teach. And we could do research, and other things, in between.'

'Come on, Professor,' said Harry passionately. 'Give us a chance. If it fails, or you don't like it, we can end it, no harm done. What do you say?'

'Oh, very well, why not?' said McGonagall. 'But I warn you, teach defence and not attack. We are not Durmstrang, we do not condone the Dark Arts.'

'Thank you, Professor,' said Harry. 'We won't let you down. It'll be a great idea, I promise.'

'Well, well,' said McGonagall. 'I have to get back to my work. I will leave you two now. I will contact you to arrange a formal meeting where we can iron out details. Until then, take care of yourselves.'

Professor McGonagall squeezed Harry's arm, which he found very odd, then left them. Harry watched until she was out of sight, and then turned to Hermione.

'Well? What do you think?'

'I think I smell a rat,' said Hermione. 'Where _did_ this plan come from?'

'I was talking to Ron about Luna and the idea sort of popped into my head,' said Harry.

'You were talking to Ron about Luna?' said Hermione. 'What did he say? Are they going out?'

'Er - what?'

'It's just that I saw Luna earlier and she didn't say a thing,' said Hermione. 'I thought she might have.'

'I won't tell you what Ron said about all that,' said Harry. 'You might not speak to him again.'

'Oh no – he didn't just use her, did he? Poor Luna.'

'I'm not sure,' said Harry. 'I don't think it's that. But you know what Ron's like, there's about as much chance of working him out as there is of Dobby playing Quidditch for Holland. Anyway, I just thought that it would be good to have some people trained up to fight – you know, just in case.'

'Just in case you want to use them, yes?'

'Legillimency to you as well,' said Harry.

'Harry I can't believe you. One minute you don't want me involved, the next you're building a secret army. What next, a dragon air force?'

'You know, that's not a bad idea,' said Harry. 'I'm _joking._ Anyway, I don't know what you're so upset about. It'll give you the perfect chance to play cupid for Ron and Luna.'

'There is such thing as a lost cause,' said Hermione. 'And this might just fit there.'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'You can be pretty persuasive.'

'I can?'

'Forgotten last night already, have you?' said Harry smirking.

'_Harry!'_ Hermione breathed as she blushed. 'Not here. It's hardly appropriate.'

'It wasn't last night either, but that didn't stop you.'

'Or you, if I remember rightly,' said Hermione with a shy grin that Harry loved. 'I wouldn't have thought Quidditch would have given you such great stamina.'

'Yeah, well I'm full of surprises.'

'You haven't got to tell me that,' said Hermione, her eyes communicating impurity right to Harry's brain. 'But back to the topic at hand, what do you intend to use this new class for?'

'I was serious about saying it might help me,' said Harry. 'The Room of Requirement can provide much better tests than just doing it at home. It can be used for anything; practising, training simulations, tons of stuff. It'll be great.'

'I still say you've got something else up your sleeve but I'll just have to wait and see what that is,' said Hermione. It was a mark of her new found reliance on Harry's judgement that she went with this new whim of his. 'I was about to come home when you arrived. Shall we go?'

Harry agreed and they left the library discussing all the things they could do with this new class. The old curriculum would be completely ignored, of course, but there were so many possibilities that it was likely to fill the fruitless time between waiting for a sniff of something tangible on other fronts.

Outside the air smelled of smoke and Harry chuckled as he imagined what could have been burned in the cauldrons of the classrooms nearby. He felt a pang of sadness at missing out on such things but as he heard the chiding voice of one of the teachers the regret eased a little. A disturbing sight at the school gates erased all such futile thoughts.

Harry hardly dared to believe it. It couldn't be what he thought. There was a figure sat in the square just outside the gates, on the edge of one of the circular flowerbeds to one side. Harry refused to believe who it was.

For the person sitting there, waiting for him, was Draco Malfoy.


	13. Many Meetings

Chapter 13 – Many Meetings.

'You!' cried Harry starting forward.

'I see they haven't cut out your eyes yet then,' said Malfoy. Harry noticed his voice lacked its usual bravado, but this didn't stop him lunging for the traitor, all thoughts of wands forgotten.

'Harry, no!' yelled Hermione. She took a firm grip of his cloak, which was enough to yank him back.

'Hermione, what are you doing?' Harry yelled into her face. 'This piece of filth killed Dumbledore!'

'No he didn't, and you know it,' said Hermione. 'Snape killed Dumbledore, not Malfoy.'

'He did enough,' said Harry. 'He let those Death Eaters into Hogwarts, he nearly killed Ron twice. He's just as bad. He's rubbish because he couldn't do it properly but I'm still going to kill him for trying.'

'Harry, please,' said Hermione passionately.

'Hermione get out of the way,' said Harry reaching into his cloak.

'Put it down, Harry,' said Hermione swatting Harry's arm as it made for his wand.

'You should listen to her, Potter,' said Malfoy, his voice oddly strained without its usual coolness. 'Wouldn't want to have a girly little catfight, would you?'

'And you can shut up too!' said Hermione rounding on Malfoy. 'The only reason I'm trying to stop Harry is for _his_ sake, not yours. He isn't a killer – he isn't your father.'

'Don't you mention my father,' said Malfoy rising.

'Or what?' said Hermione coolly. Her own wand was raised and pointing right and Malfoy's chest, at the point where his heart would be if he had one, thought Harry. Malfoy eyed Hermione's wand with a degree of caution, his mind fighting a fierce battle about what to do next. Harry thought he saw the instinct for a fight but after taking a long look at Hermione's wand he appeared to think better of it and sat back down.

'You've got one hell of a cheek to turn up here,' said Harry angrily. 'I think it's time you explained yourself.'

'What I do is none of your business,' said Malfoy.

'You want to be a Death Eater, you know and are related to Death Eaters and you're an evil piece of scum. That makes you my business. I want to know what you are doing here.'

'And if I don't want to tell you?'

'Then I'll force it from you,' said Harry, slightly perturbed by the hint of a quaver in Malfoy's voice.

'Oh yeah, how?' said Malfoy.

'Well for a start I know where that foul Snape kept his Veritaserum,' said Harry. 'How hard do you think it would be for me and Hermione to subdue you and drag you up there?'

'Still need the Muggle to do all the work for you, don't you?' said Malfoy with a sneer.

'Right, that's it!' said Harry striding forward.

'No!' said Hermione, stepping in front of Harry. 'And you can put that down as well.' She had turned back to Malfoy who had managed to get his wand out now.

'Don't try and tell me what to do, Mudb-'

'_Expelliarmus!'_

Harry had taken about as much of Malfoy as he could stand for one day. The force of the spell had thrown him off the rock he was sat upon and he was now flat on his back on the path leading to Hogsmeade. Harry shook off Hermione's protests and raced over to Malfoy, his wand pointing at his prostrate body and he wondered which curse would hurt the most. Then Malfoy spoke and for the first time ever Harry thought he sounded scared of him.

'P-please, Potter, don't' Malfoy begged. 'Don't k-kill me.'

'How dare you beg for mercy!' Harry cried. 'Did Dumbledore get mercy? Did Sirius? Why should you, you dirty filth!'

'I made a mistake, I didn't know what I was doing, I was scared,' stammered Malfoy desperately. 'I'm s-sorry. Please – please, Harry.'

This last word, more than anything, stunned Harry. Malfoy had never used his first name before, and never spoken in this way. There was something in it which made Harry lower his wand and step back. Hermione moved forwards and took over.

'Don't try and get up,' she said. 'Harry's right. There had better be a good reason for you being here. Now talk.'

'I-I had nowhere else to go,' said Malfoy. 'When I agreed to help _him_ I thought it would be easy, just like being in school. But its not. Its not at all. If you fail at something you don't get detention or a Howler; your life is at risk. I could handle that but I didn't think my mother would be drawn into it. I didn't want her to be…'

His voice tailed off and Harry watched him intently, trying to work out if this was all an elaborate game.

'What happened to her?' asked Hermione.

'It started with a few threats,' said Malfoy. 'They said my father had failed, I had failed and that my mother would probably do the same. That she was too soft. They found out that she made Snape do the Unbreakable Vow.'

'The Unbreakable Vow?' said Hermione. 'Between your mother and Snape? For you? Why?'

'She didn't want me to be a killer,' said Malfoy, sitting up. 'She made Snape promise to do it if I didn't, or couldn't.'

'Then he didn't have a choice,' Hermione mused.

'You don't get it, do you?' said Malfoy. 'Snape is a traitor. To both sides. He's only out for himself. Some of my father's friends think he's after the Dark Lord's throne. Oh he had a choice alright, and he took his chance when it came. He's just as bad as the Dark Lord himself.'

'That still doesn't explain what you are doing here,' said Harry.

'I thought my mother would be safe,' Malfoy continued. 'But then my aunt Bella told the Dark Lord about the Vow, and he went after my mother. I took her away and I'm trying to find somewhere she can be safe. He's nearly caught us a couple of times. Then I remembered what Dumbledore had said – on that night – and I thought-'

'Well you thought wrong!' yelled Harry. 'You had your chance then! Instead you let him die. You've got no chance.'

'That isn't for you to decide,' said Malfoy. 'That's for the Order-'

'I'm in the Order!' said Harry. 'And there is no way I'm being part of any protection for you.'

'I'm not asking for myself,' said Malfoy. 'My mother is innocent in all this.'

'Ha!' said Harry. 'Innocent? Her husband is a killer, her son was going to be one, I'm not seeing the innocent thing, sorry.'

'She hasn't done anything,' said Malfoy.'

'Not doing anything about you and jailbird daddy is just as bad as being part of it herself,' spat Harry. 'If you've got on the wrong side of Voldemort and you're an enemy of the Order and the Ministry then you're really in trouble. You're on borrowed time. I for one hope that time expires very soon.'

'Harry, you can't just deal out death and judgement,' said Hermione. 'No-one can. Aren't we trying to save everyone who Voldemort want to destroy? Doesn't that put Malfoy and his mum under our protection? Everyone deserves a second chance, Harry.'

'I can't believe you're saying this,' said Harry. 'After all the things he's done, after all the nasty things he's said to you. You still want to help him.'

'Yes,' said Hermione simply.

'Well I wont,' said Harry flatly.

'Yes you will,' said Hermione. 'Because you're a good person and it's what Dumbledore would have wanted you to do. And it's what I want you to do.'

Harry swore and stormed a few yards away. What he hated the most was that Hermione was right, as always. He had no choice but to give Malfoy a chance, or risk going down the same road as Voldemort. But wasn't Dumbledore always too trusting? It cost him his life and as much as Harry admired him he didn't want to make his mistakes. The debate, he knew, was pointless. If Hermione asked him to jump off Hogsmeade Bridge naked he would, he couldn't deny her this either.

'Get up, on your feet,' Harry commanded as he strode to Malfoy. 'Where is your mother now?'

'We're hiding in a Muggle village just past Hogsmeade,' said Malfoy.

'Then go and get her and bring her here,' said Harry. He stepped in close to Malfoy again. 'But let us be rightly clear on this, I'm helping you against my better judgement, against every fibre of instinct in my body. You have just one chance between you. If either you or your mother steps out of line, shows any indication of being a Voldemort spy or of having any sort of link to him, I'll kill you both. I hope you understand because I tell you this just once. I have every reason in the world to do it so don't push me.'

Malfoy nodded and moved away before Apparating. A few minutes of awkward silence passed before he re-materialised with his mother at his side. In spite of himself Harry felt a shard of resistance melt away at the sight of her. When he'd last seen her she had been haughty, proud and arrogant. Now she look tired, weary and as scared as Malfoy had suggested they were. He couldn't help doubt it though; they were just too bad to be wholly believed. It would take a lot, Harry thought, to convince him totally but for now he would give them the benefit of the doubt. He turned and marched them back up to the school where he would call on the wisdom of Headmistress McGonagall to decide on the next step.

Later that evening Harry and Hermione were sat in the living room at Grimmauld Place trying to unwind after what had been quite a trying day. Hermione had her nose buried in the Daily Prophet, tutting and snorting and occasionally reading out snippets about Harry and the war effort. These were largely embellished propaganda and Harry felt he may have found them amusing had his head not been filled with other thoughts.

For Harry was brooding. He was obsessing over the meeting with Draco Malfoy outside Hogwarts and the story he had told. There was enough truth in it to be believed; Harry was familiar enough with Voldemort's ways to know he held little value for anyone, even his closest allies. He was equally able to believe that Bellatrix Lestrange would give her sister over to Voldemort if she thought it would elevate her status with him.

He mulled over how long it would take Voldemort and his cohorts to realise the Malfoy's were now under the protection of the Order. There was also Lucius Malfoy to think of; how would he react to his son changing sides? Would them being under threat by Voldemort be enough to sway Lucius to not give them away, or would he follow Bellatix's example. Either way they were hidden now; McGonagall had taken them to her office and banished Harry away. As he sat on the old chair at Grimmauld Place he wondered where they were now and what sort or protections would keep them out of Voldemort's clutches.

'Shows how much they know, doesn't it?' said Hermione suddenly.

'What?' asked Harry, confused.

'Haven't you been listening to me?' asked Hermione.

'Were you talking?' said Harry. 'Sorry I was miles away.'

'That much is obvious,' said Hermione smiling. 'Thinking about Malfoy I bet.'

'This whole thing is really vexing,' said Harry.

'Vexing?' laughed Hermione. 'I'm sorry, I must have missed the part where we went back to the nineteenth century!'

'Shut up,' said Harry throwing a cushion at her.

'No wonder you never played Chaser,' said Hermione as the cushion sailed a few metres past her head. She got up and walked over to Harry, sitting herself down in his lap before starting to rub his temples.

'Mmm,' Harry purred. 'Please adjust my eyebrows.'

'You're really tense, Harry,' said Hermione. 'You need to relax. There isn't any point dwelling on this. It's out of your hands now.'

'Oh really?' said Harry. 'Anything this directly to do with Voldemort involves me. I can't believe I had to help Malfoy, of all people.'

'I thought what you did was very good,' said Hermione. 'Even if you don't forgive him you were able to put that aside. You always did have moral fibre.'

'Yeah,' snorted Harry. 'Look where that got me last time. Last place and looking like an idiot.'

'Aww it was just your saving-people-thing,' teased Hermione. 'It's cute.'

'Cute? That's one word for it,' said Harry. 'Stupid is one I prefer. Not that I'm the only one who has that complex.'

'Really? Who else has one?'

'You do.'

'I do not have a saving-people-thing,' Hermione protested.

'Okay, well maybe not a saving-people-thing,' said Harry. 'But you do have a _saving-me-thing._ Anyone threatens me and you whip your wand out faster than Jesse James. You had your wand on Malfoy so fast today I thought I had blacked out and missed you doing it.'

'Ah well,' said Hermione. 'Like I said before, someone has to look after you. Lets face it you're pretty useless on your own.'

'Hey!' said Harry tickling Hermione. 'I'll have you know I'm very capable.'

Hermione didn't answer but instead just snuggled in. They sat like that for several minutes before Hermione finally spoke again.

'I thought we could go out tomorrow,' said Hermione. 'Get away from it all for an afternoon.'

'Sounds good,' said Harry. 'Where do you want to go?'

'Lunch with my parents.'

Harry jerked his head back to look at her. 'What?'

'Is that a problem?' asked Hermione, sitting up.

'Er, no, I don't suppose,' said Harry awkwardly. 'But do you think that's a good idea?'

'Why wouldn't it be? They haven't seen me for a while and they are worried about me, what with things being as they are. And I want them to meet you. Its only fair they see whom I'm – how did Ron put it? – _shacked up_ with. Don't you want to?'

'What? No, it isn't that,' said Harry. 'I just won't know what to say. I'm no good with things like that. I'll make an idiot of myself.'

'Of course you won't,' said Hermione brightly. 'Just be yourself and they'll see how nice you are and everything will be fine. If we're to be as serious as we are then at some stage you have to meet my parents. They want to know who you are.'

'How do they know anything about me?' said Harry.

'Well I did talk to my parents when I went home from school, you know. They know who you are and what you've done since we've known each other. And I write to them every week so they know what's going on between us.'

'You've said what we're doing?' said Harry, horrified.

'Oh yeah,' cried Hermione sardonically. 'I'm going to tell my mum and dad that!' No, I mean I just told them I have a serious boyfriend, that's all. Is there anything wrong with that?'

'No, of course not,' said Harry. 'Sorry, I don't mean to freak out. It's just a bit of a surprise that's all.'

'If you want me to cancel it, I will,' said Hermione.

'No, I don't want that,' said Harry. 'I'd like to meet them. Just don't dump me if I make a fool of myself.'

'I don't want you to change the habit of a lifetime for my parents, Harry,' said Hermione smirking.

'I'm going to have you in a minute!' said Harry.

'Only if you can catch me,' said Hermione with a wink before she jumped up and ran from the room, Harry hot on her tail…

The Muggle High Street was brimming with afternoon shoppers. Though nowhere near as packed as a London street this was still a veritable throng of people. Harry and Hermione weaved their way through the crowd on the wave of people moving in their direction. Occasionally Hermione would yank Harry's arm to the window display of a clothes shop, or drag him to watch a street entertainer or stop suddenly to buy a Big Issue (anything to help the homeless). It was only after she had caught him ogling the lacy lingerie in the window of one shop that Hermione stuck to her course and tried to keep Harry's mind on other things.

'Now remember, my parents are dentists,' said Hermione.

'Meaning what?' said Harry. 'I should try and order Colgate for lunch?'

'No, silly,' laughed Hermione. 'Just don't mind them if they start going on about teeth. They both love what they do. They can bore you to tears about it.'

'Don't worry I've had to listen to lots of rubbish over the years, I'm good at blocking it out.'

'Like what?' said Hermione.

'Your lectures, Ron's jokes, Divination,' said Harry. 'I'll be a good audience, don't worry.'

'I only lectured you for your own good,' said Hermione sniffily.

'That'd be you saving-me-thing again, yes?'

'Exactly.'

They stopped outside a little grill restaurant that was small enough to be a café but was too well furnished to be one. Hermione led the way across the place to a table at the back where he parents were already sitting. They both rose as they reached the table, embracing Hermione in turn before facing Harry.

'Mum, dad, this is Harry,' said Hermione. 'Harry, this is mum and dad.'

'Hi,' said Harry.

'Nice to meet you, Harry,' said Hermione's father shaking Harry's hand. 'A firm grip. I like that.'

'Hello, Harry,' said Hermione's mother. 'We've heard so much about you.'

'All good I hope,' said Harry awkwardly.

'Oh yes,' beamed Mrs Granger. 'Hermione has never said a bad word about you.'

'You haven't been around her much then,' said Harry smiling. Both Hermione's parents chuckled.

A waitress came over. Harry ordered an orange juice, feeling it best not to order anything that might rot his teeth. Hermione asked for a mineral water and began chatting animatedly to her parents about what was going on as Harry picked up a menu. It was when she mentioned Horcruxes that Harry felt he had to interrupt.

'Er, Hermione,' he said. 'I don't think this is the place to talk about this sort of thing.'

'Harry, I don't think we're in any danger here,' said Hermione. 'There isn't anyone about.'

'Voldemort could have spies anywhere,' said Harry. 'He probably knows hiding amongst Muggles is the best way to evade him. And he is as bad to them as wizards. I just think that you might want to be a bit careful with what you say.'

'But surely, Harry, you don't think this evil wizard could be here?' said Mr Granger. Harry thought he could detect a trace of incredulity in his voice, as though he didn't quite appreciate who he was talking about.

'I don't think he is here,' said Harry. 'But I do know a few things, one of which is that he desperately wants to kill me and anyone else who opposes him. Secondly, he can appear here from hundreds of miles away in a split second. There are no wizards around to confront him but me and Hermione. There are hundreds of defenceless people around that he would have no problem with killing in order to get to me. With that in mind I think it best to keep to subjects a little less dangerous.'

'Oh my,' said Mrs Granger, as though suddenly realising how much danger Hermione was really in. 'And what is being done to stop him.'

'I'm working on a strategy that has already had some success,' said Harry. 'Others are as well. I won't say anything more. I just think that in this environment we'd do well to talk about less hot topics. You never know who's listening.'

'Harry, you're frightening my parents!' hissed Hermione.

'I'm sorry,' said Harry quickly. 'I didn't mean to.'

'No need to apologise,' said Mr Granger. 'I'd rather know the truth. I take it that Hermione is safe with you?'

'As safe as anywhere,' said Harry. 'This is an incredibly powerful enemy. Safe is a relative thing but I won't let anything happen to her.'

'That's good to know,' said Mr Granger. 'Not that we could do anything about it. Quite stubborn is our Hermione. She has always done her own thing. Just tell me you won't take any unnecessary risks.'

'Not with her, I won't,' said Harry.

'Enough of all this morbid talk,' said Hermione in a vain attempt to restore normality. 'Shall we order?'

The afternoon was strained after that. The conversation topics ranged from Hermione telling her parents about Bill and Fleur's wedding to them telling her the latest stories from their dental practice. It all had something of a hollow feel to it, though, and Harry stayed as silent as he could as he blamed it on himself. He answered the questions posed to him politely and tried to take an interest in the tales of dental work the Grangers told. All in all, though, Harry was glad when it was all over and they parted.

Hermione was in a foul mood as they walked towards the park where they would Apparate home. She strode on in mutinous silence with her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face as Harry hurried to keep up. She Apparated without a word and was through the door of Grimmauld Place before Harry had even crossed the little square outside. Once they were both in the kitchen Harry confronted her.

'What is it?' he asked.

'What do you think?' she asked. 'You just made my parents think I'm on the verge of being killed, do you want a gold star for that?'

'Well its true.'

'Yes, maybe, but some things are better left unsaid,' said Hermione angrily. 'You have no tact, do you?'

'You were the one talking about it,' said Harry. 'What impression did you hope to give? Tried to make your parents believe that it wasn't as bad as it is.'

'Is that so wrong?' said Hermione. 'Is it wrong that they don't worry about me? That they can sleep easy without knowing all of this?'

'Don't you think they'd want to know? That they ought to know, maybe. You're just lying to them by not telling them what's going on.'

'You think it's that easy, do you?' said Hermione who was angrier than Harry had ever seen her. 'You don't know, you just don't get it. You don't know what its like to have parents putting pressure on you, to have them breathing down your neck, to have them going on at you all the time. You just don't know what its like to have parents.'

'No,' said Harry. 'No I suppose I don't, do I?'

Hermione froze looking totally horrified as she realised what she'd said. 'Oh, Harry – Harry I'm so sorry. I didn't think, I didn't mean-'

'No you didn't think,' said Harry. 'Unfortunately I'll never get a chance to know what pressure you're under. But you seem to perfectly comprehend how _easy_ it is for _me, _how I have so much support for the burden I have to carry. But don't let that bother you, Hermione, you just focus on not having your parents tutting at you for get. In the meantime I have a life or two to save, and maybe take a few on the way.'

With that he stormed out, leaving Hermione on the verge of tears and feeling that he had never been hurt more in his whole life.


	14. The Tapestry Unravelled

Chapter 14 – The Tapestry Unravelled.

Harry sat upstairs alone for over an hour dwelling on the reminder Hermione's thoughtless words had brought to his mind. The realisation that the task before him belonged to he alone had been pushed back, covered by the false hope being intimate with Hermione had generated. He had almost forgotten the words of the prophecy, almost started to believe that he could defy destiny and weave others into aiding him in the final confrontation with Voldemort. Somehow with Hermione's stark reminder that he had no parents to shoulder the burden, the awful truth was once again at the forefront of his thoughts.

Not that he was really that angry with Hermione, he just wanted to make a point with her. The tactic, he knew, could backfire badly but he was assured enough of the strength of his relationship with Hermione to risk upsetting her a little to make her understand certain things. He hadn't expected her to use his orphan status as a reason for him not understanding _her_, but he had to try and make her see the value of prudence and thought, even when the emotion of certain situations could carry you away. This was the reason, he thought, that she had told her parents about their dealings with the Horcruxes, for he was certain she wouldn't have been so open about it with anyone else, especially another from the magical community. Harry feared what he considered Hermione's 'Muggle naivety;' that she somehow thought her parents were safe and free from it all. Harry, who felt he knew Voldemort's mind much better than Hermione, thought they were in more danger than most.

So he sat and stewed. This period lasted much longer than he expected; Hermione usually wasn't the type to let him be alone with his thoughts, especially if they painted her in a negative light. There was, of course, the possibility that she felt she had crossed the line this time and Harry tried not to think of her sitting alone in the kitchen crying with the guilt of it all. The thought made Harry feel about as bad as his imaginary Hermione was. But he was determined not to cave in and go to her; he needed her badly, but she had to keep her promise to do as he said, the first rule of which was to avoid unnecessary risks. So far she wasn't keeping her part of the bargain.

It was just as a resistance to his determination was beginning to form that Harry heard the handle to the living room door creak down. Hermione walked in slowly, sheepishly, her face pale but her eyes sorrowful rather than red and puffy. If she had been crying, Harry thought, it had passed a long while ago. She looked up at him uncertainly; she looked so sorry for herself, so pitiful with regret that Harry lost all his will to be steely with her.

'Don't say it,' he said as Hermione made to speak. 'I know you're sorry, I know you didn't mean it, and I forgave you the moment you said it.'

A hint of a smile crossed Hermione's face as part of her sorrowful veil lifted. She made her way across the room to Harry and sat at the foot of his chair, hugging his hand and resting against his legs. For a few moments they simply sat like that and said nothing.

'Oh, Harry I just have to say it,' said Hermione suddenly, sounding rather desperate. 'I'll just die of shame if I don't apologise. I was so thoughtless, so stupid. I was caught up in my own things and I just blurted it out. I didn't mean it.'

'I already said I know you didn't,' said Harry, smirking at the frantic look in Hermione's eyes.

'It was just about the most horrid thing I could have said,' Hermione cried. She stood up and began pacing about. 'I don't know what got into me. I can't believe I even mentioned anything about what we're doing to my parents. It's like I've learned nothing important in all these years. There could have been spies somewhere, like when we had that first DA meeting in the Hogs Head, remember? Or someone could have intercepted my letter and Polyjuiced mum and dad. Oh, dear…'

Hermione flopped down into the chair opposite Harry looking horrified and exhausted. Secretly Harry agreed with most of what she'd said but he had learned enough about pacifying people to know that know wasn't the moment to voice his agreement.

'Hermione you need to calm down,' said Harry. 'I'm sure your parents weren't Polyjuiced. And if there were spies I stopped you before you said anything to important. Don't worry about it.'

'Don't worry about it!' Hermione thundered, springing back to her feet. 'How can I not worry about it? I nearly gave away our plan! I put our lives, my parents' lives, and everyone's life in danger! Then I said something really horrible to you, and you probably secretly hate me for it, and if I lost you over that I'd go nuts! What isn't there to worry about?'

'Well losing me for a start,' said Harry. 'I need you more than anyone or anything and it'd take a little more than you venting your anger at me once to change that. You'll have to work a bit harder than that to get rid of me, girl.'

'Why aren't you mad at me?' asked Hermione. 'I expected you to be furious with me.'

'And maybe before I might have been. I just don't seem able to feel anything bad towards you for very long. You've softened me a bit.'

Hermione looked as though she had melted; her shoulders seem to collapse down and she smiled.

'Oh Harry…'

'Don't go thinking you're in control of me though,' said Harry. 'I'm my own man and I still make the decisions around here.'

'Ha! If you say so!' laughed Hermione.

'Okay, maybe you control me a bit,' said Harry. 'But don't forget that when it comes to fighting Voldemort you don't do anything without my agreement. That includes talking about it, even to people we trust. I hope you won't make that mistake again.'

'No,' said Hermione nodding fervently. 'As far as that goes I will do as you say. But lets not joke around; you're under the thumb in all other areas!'

'Excuse me, I am not!' Harry protested. 'You may be able to enchant other boys under your spell but I have my own mind.'

'Really?' said Hermione looking sultrily at him. 'I bet I can bend you to my will. I just have to offer the right inducements.'

Harry felt himself involuntarily shiver at the look Hermione pierced him with. Despite all his protestations he knew that Hermione did have a certain power over him that was difficult to resist. It made throwing of the Imperious Curse look like child's play.

'Hey, no flirting,' said Harry. 'I'm supposed to be giving you a sermon here.'

'I give you a simple choice,' said Hermione stepping forward to whisper in Harry's ear. 'Cleanse me of my sins or come with me and we'll commit a few more.'

And with a wink she slinked out of the door. Harry sighed to himself and chided himself for being so weak. He thought how Ron would laugh at him for being, as Hermione had termed it, "under the thumb". Harry made his way to the door thinking to him that somewhere Sirius and his father would be having a nice little chuckle at how, when it came to being addicted to their women, Harry really was his father's son.

For the next few days Harry enjoyed a period of relative peacefulness. The mid-October mildness was rapidly giving way to chillier winds and the leaves were beginning to fall on the handful of trees in the crude park just outside Grimmauld Place. The house was feeling increasingly draughty and the fires were being lit considerably earlier than they had been. It was during this time that Harry received a piece of news he was looking for.

It was on a Wednesday afternoon. He and Hermione were at Hogwarts discussing with Headmistress McGonagall their plans for teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry was surprised to learn that the plan had been met with universal approval by the students when McGonagall had suggested the idea to them. Harry confessed his astonishment to Hermione as they left the office.

'I don't know why you didn't see this coming,' said Hermione. 'It doesn't surprise me at all.'

'Why not?' asked Harry. 'Lessons have never been popular so what would be different this time?'

'Oh come, Harry,' said Hermione. 'You are dense sometimes. It's just like when you were Quidditch Captain; the lesson, like the team, isn't popular – you are. If you were popular last year then I don't know what you could call this. Why do you think I burn the Daily Prophet after I read it? If you got hold of it your head would grow so big I doubt you could get it through the door. It doesn't hurt that you've started being a bit of a rebel, either, standing up to the Ministry and things. Plus there was the fight last year. It gives you a rugged sort of edge. It makes you not just more fanciable but something of a god in that area. You're picture is in every issue of _Witch Weekly_, they even have a special column all about you. I mean, even I've fallen for you and nobody could have predicted that!'

'Cheek,' said Harry, flushing at this piece of news. 'I think I could have predicted it if I'd stopped being so blind and read between the lines. They have pictures of me?'

'Yes,' said Hermione simply. 'I don't know who takes them but they are quiet good. There was one topless one, though how they got it is a mystery. It must have broken a few hearts at Hogwarts to see you didn't have that tattoo of a Horntail on your chest.'

'Yeah, well,' said Harry. 'I didn't want to upset Ginny the time but I much prefer a Hippogriff to a Horntail any day.'

'Glad to hear it,' said Hermione with a wink.

They were just turning out of the Charms corridor and making for a staircase when Harry heard someone hiss behind him. Turning curiously he looked towards the source of the sound. There, shrouded by the shadows of an alcove, was the unmistakable blond sheen of Malfoy.

'Psst! Potter. Over here!' Malfoy hissed.

'Yes I can see you,' said Harry. 'You're sounding more like Voldemort's pet every day. You'll be eating rats any day now.'

'Very funny, Potter,' said Malfoy.

'Is there something particular you wanted?' asked Harry. 'Or have you just popped your head up to ruin my day?'

'I did have a message for you,' said Malfoy, 'but perhaps I shouldn't give it to you.'

'Perhaps you need to have a rethink of your loyalties,' said Harry darkly. 'I know the way to Little Hangleton quite well. You know who has a house there I suppose?'

Harry grinned in satisfaction as he saw Malfoy try to mask a shudder.

'Like you'd want to go there any more than I would,' said Malfoy eventually. 'Anyway, the message I've got comes from the portrait of Dumbledore.'

'Really?' said Harry fighting a battle against his natural urge to disbelieve every word that came from Malfoy's mouth. 'We were just up in the Head's office, why didn't he give it to me then?'

'Perhaps because he was in the Charms classroom with me. He has a portrait in most rooms of the castle. Don't tell me you don't know that portraits can move between frames?'

'Yes of course he does,' snapped Hermione as Malfoy started to snigger.

'What's it like to have a girl fight all your battles for you?' asked Malfoy.

'What's it like being the world's biggest twit?' asked Hermione scathingly.

'Just give me the message,' said Harry.

'As you like,' said Malfoy. 'It was so much more fun when you weren't whipped, Potter.'

'Message,' Harry insisted.

'Dumbledore says to expect a visit later. He says you'll learn things in your bedroom, like you did before. He said you'll know what that means. Sounds a bit disgusting to me but then you are friends with the Weasley's so I expect you are used to being surrounded by filth.'

'Well I did share a school with you and the rest of the Slytherin scum for six years so I must be well used to it by now.'

'Come on, Harry,' said Hermione tugging the sleeve of Harry's robe. It might have had something to do with him reaching for his wand but it did manage to get him moving again. 'Do you know what that message means?'

'The only thing I can think of,' said Harry, 'is that portrait of Phineas Nigellus at Grimmauld Place. He has one at Hogwarts and Dumbledore used it to send messages to Sirius and me when Umbridge was at Hogwarts. He must be planning to use it himself.'

'Can a portrait visit another portrait's frame somewhere else?' asked Hermione.

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'I know they can leave their own frames for others next to them. The fat lady always did, and that mad knight, Sir Cadogan, led me around once. I don't know if they can move between frames in different places but this is Dumbledore and if there are rules for portraits I'm sure he knows how to get around them.'

For the rest of the day Harry waited at Grimmauld Place. He and Hermione sat in the bedroom staring at the blank canvas on the wall and listening to the distant sounds echoing from the twin frame at Hogwarts. Harry thought that perhaps their time could have been spent a little more constructively but he was so curious as to what information he was going to receive that he doubted whether he could seriously concentrate on anything anyway.

At around seven o'clock Harry heard a little cough and looked up at the portrait. He had been playing with a Snitch that Hermione had conjured to amuse him during the wait. He was letting the Snitch fly a little from his hand before snatching it back again. He realised that while his father had used the little game to show off his reflexes it was also quite fun as he grew more daring each time by letting the Snitch a little further each time. Hermione didn't seem as impressed as Wormtail had been by Harry's dad; the appreciative whoops of the would-be traitor had been replaced by tuts and snorts as Hermione went on darning some multicoloured bobble-hats.

'It's about time,' Harry said as Phineas Nigellus pretended to snooze against the edge of the picture frame.

'I see you haven't lost any of your charm,' said Phineas. 'You'd think you'd be more appreciative of all this effort I've gone to.'

'Effort?' scoffed Harry. 'You're a portrait and lazy by those standards. Like you do anything else.'

'I shall never regret leaving my own youth,' said Phineas. 'Perhaps I was never quite as arrogant as you but I must have had similar traits. Let us hope that at some stage you grow out of them.'

'Yeah whatever,' said Harry. 'I thought I was supposed to be getting a message.'

'Impatience is not a virtue,' said Phineas. 'Oh very well – Dumbledore! Let's get this over with. I have a dinner date with Miranda the Manicured at eight.'

At the command Dumbledore stepped from the side frame and into the centre of the portrait.

'Thank you, Phineas,' said Dumbledore. 'You may go now, but do not stray too far. I shall need to be called back when I am finished here.'

'Very well,' said Phineas lazily and disappeared from where Dumbledore had arrived.

'Ah, Harry, good to see you looking well,' said Dumbledore. 'And Miss Granger too. Excellent.'

'Evening, sir,' said Harry. 'How's life as a painting going?'

'Picture perfect, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'I highly recommend it. Why only yesterday I played a few frames of pool with the Baskerville Hounds on the second floor. They weren't happy to lose to me, I can tell you.'

'I can bet,' said Harry. 'So, what is this all about, Sir?'

'As always I can see you are not to be distracted, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Very well. I have been keeping up with your progress in the struggle against the dark side, Harry.'

'Really? How?'

'I was a highly clever wizard, you know, and I have my ways. Anyway, I have noticed that you have struggled recently and things seemed to have stalled. I have come to the conclusion that I left you far too much to do at such a young age. My age, Harry, is what gave me such cleverness in life. I had lived so much, seen and learned so much, whereas you have not.

'After a series on discussions with various parties I have stumbled upon a piece of information that could be of great use to you.'

'What is it?' asked Harry eagerly.

'This is the problem,' said Dumbledore. 'The information comes from Phineas who, as you know, is not the most helpful of souls. He told me, after a few glasses of brandy one night, as we discussed the state of things that you might find some direction in a certain tree at your residence.'

'That doesn't make sense,' said Harry.

'At first I agreed,' Dumbledore continued. 'But Phineas always was, and remains, aloof and ambiguous. Unfortunately my knowledge of Grimmauld Place is limited. However I thought you might be able to make more sense of it.'

'But there aren't any trees here,' said Harry. 'I don't understand. Didn't you get anything else from him?'

'No, I'm afraid not. The only reason I tell you is that it was a rare honourable moment from Phineas. They are as rare, and reliable, as the predictions of Sybil Trelawney. I thought that perhaps you could investigate the permutations of his cryptic message further.'

'Professor,' said Hermione. 'What were you and Phineas discussing at the time, precisely? It might give us a clue to start from.'

'I believe we were discussing my death and the false Horcrux which weakened me,' said Dumbledore. 'I recall Phineas debating my reasons for allowing myself to be left defenceless.'

'Dumbledore!' came a call from nowhere. It was Phineas. 'Will you hurry this along? I have to get ready for my date!'

'Alas our time is at an end,' said Dumbledore smiling. 'I am sorry I cannot be of more use to you, but such is the _tapestry_ of things. Good luck.'

And with that he was gone.

'Well that was useless,' said Harry. 'All that waiting and for what?'

'Dumbledore wouldn't have told us unless he thought it was worth doing so,' said Hermione. 'There must be some meaning in it. We just have to figure it out.'

'That's your field of expertise,' said Harry. 'Come on, let's go downstairs. It's freezing up here now.'

Harry led the way to the living room and lit the fire in the grate while Hermione flopped onto the couch to think.

'It could be anything,' she said thinking aloud. 'Trees, trees – branches, leaves - hey maybe the answer's in tea leaves!'

'This coming from the girl who quit Divination when she didn't believe in it,' said Harry. 'No it can't be that simple. Phineas Nigellus likes to have his jokes, I think. A bit like Peeves.'

'So you think he doesn't mean trees at all?'

'Probably not,' said Harry leaning against the wall. 'Maybe not real trees. What sort of fake trees can you have? You know, what's the word -'

'Metaphorical?' said Hermione who was suddenly sat bolt upright.

'That's right. Wrap that immense brain of yours around that.'

'A tree with branches,' said Hermione who was now stood up.

'Well most have them,' said Harry, eyeing her warily.

'In this house.'

'That's what he said.'

'And Dumbledore mentioned tapestry.'

'Did he, I wasn't listening.'

'Harry…'

Hermione was pointing at the wall behind him. Almost with a dread of slow understanding, Harry stepped forward and turned around.

'The Black Family tree,' he said.

'It must be the only tree of any kind here,' said Hermione. 'This must be what he was on about.'

'But how will this help us?'

'My area of expertise, you said,' said Hermione. 'My task. Harry read through the names.'

'Why?'

'Aren't we looking for a set of initials? A set of initials that Dumbledore found at his death. A set of initials that might have been part of a family from the Dark Side?'

'R.A.B!' Harry cried. 'The B could stand for Black.'

'Start looking,' said Hermione.

Frantically they began scanning the tapestry.

'Meliflua, Malfoy, Lestrange,' said Harry reading the names at his eye level.

'Harry,' said Hermione in barely a whisper. 'What about this one?'

Harry looked down. Hermione was pointing at Sirius's name which, Harry saw with a pang, now included a death date. He followed the line sideways to another name.

'Regulus Black!' Harry exclaimed. 'But he died, Sirius told me.'

'Harry – there is no date of death,' said Hermione. 'What if - now this is just an idea – but what if he faked his own death? Other people have done it and wouldn't it have been better to appear dead to escape being captured by Voldemort? It makes sense.'

'But we only have two initials,' said Harry. 'How do we know his middle name began with A?'

'Didn't you say you wanted to follow every lead?'

'Well, yes,' said Harry. 'But where do we start?'

'We already have started,' said Hermione. 'The question is what to do next, and I have a plan. It might take a while but it could work.'

'What do you need?'

'Just one thing,' said Hermione. 'That locket from around your neck.'


	15. The Apex Faction

Chapter 15 – The Apex Faction

For much of the next day Harry didn't see Hermione or whatever she was concocting with the fake Horcrux locket. She locked herself in one of the upper bedrooms with a stack of books, her cauldron, candles and many assorted trinkets and ingredients that she had gathered from Harry knew not where. There were occasional bangs and puffs of smoke seeping out from under the door but after one heavy scolding for asking if she was alright Harry thought it best to leave her to it.

Luckily Ron came around at noon to catch up on what was going on. He likened the minor explosions emanating from Hermione's location to Fred and George's bedroom at the Burrow, a comparison that Harry was comfortable with at all. Ron pointed out, though, that if Hermione was working then she was in her element and it was best to get out of her way.

'You know what she's like,' he said. 'She's a little bit dangerous at times. Too much magic for her own good, I say. But she must know what she's doing and you'll only put her off. She'll come to you when she's good and ready.'

'How are things at home?' asked Harry.

'Quiet,' said Ron. 'Bill and Fleur have gone away on honeymoon to somewhere exotic; Dad's hardly ever out of the Ministry and Ginny's back at Hogwarts. All in all it's a bit weird there.'

'What about you? Been to see Luna recently?'

'Well I can't, can I?' said Ron blushing into his red hair. 'She's in school, isn't she? Not like we can meet up at lunch times or anything.'

'You know, that sounds quite weird,' said Harry. 'She's still in school, you're out in the big wide world. Makes you sound like a cradle snatcher.'

'Eh, shut up,' said Ron throwing a pillow at Harry, who ducked away laughing. 'You went out with my sister and they are the same age.'

'Yeah but I learnt from that and went for the more mature woman,' said Harry.

'Eventually,' said Ron.

'Well I had to wait for your little coup-de-tar on my love life to end before I could make my move,' said Harry.

'Make your move!' Ron snorted. 'Your moves with girls are about as good as your moves in chess!'

Harry had to agree. They continued talking about each others failures with the opposite sex until they had lunch, which consisted of some excellent pasties Mrs Weasley had sent with Ron for she was convinced Harry and Hermione were starving under their own devices. It was about one o'clock when the kitchen door burst open and Hermione came in. Harry couldn't help but feel she looked so cute; her fringe and eyebrows were singed and black, her face scarred with soot and dust, her cloak smoking in places.

'I know where he is, Harry!' she said excitedly.

'How?' he asked.

'A locator spell,' Hermione explained. 'I saw it in one of the books we took from Hogwarts. I knew whoever had put the locket their must have touched it so his fingerprints would be on it. I had to get through the ones one there too; there were yours and Dumbledore's and both came up on my map.'

'Then where is he?' said Harry.

'Egypt,' said Hermione breathlessly. 'He's in Egypt, Harry. And they have a special place you can Apparate to, I've already found it out.'

'Then what are we waiting for, let's go,' said Harry jumping up.

'We will,' said Hermione looking serious. 'But first, I have to have a bath. Won't be long!'

And with that she left the kitchen humming all the way up the steps.

'Do you think that spell's addled her brain?' asked Ron. Harry just shrugged.

Hermione was ready in half an hour, which Harry thought was a pretty good time for a girl. She showed both he and Ron the place on her map where they'd have to Apparate and explained where it was.

'It's in the Valley of the Kings,' she said. 'Where all the tombs are. There's one there that doesn't appear on normal maps. It's hidden by magic I expect. We Apparate to a site on the side of Rameses III's tomb and go straight across. It sounds fairly simple.'

Harry couldn't help noticing that Hermione didn't seem to believe her own words. Nevertheless he donned his cloak and followed her into the breezy afternoon air. They crossed to the high walled alley that was perfect for Apparition and on the count of three performed the act. It was the furthest Harry had ever travelled by this method and the sensation was uncomfortable. He disliked Apparition at the best of times but having that feeling elongated was not something he wanted to do on a regular basis.

Eventually they did rematerialize and in a place as different from the one they left as it was possible to be. A rolling wasteland of golden sand interspersed with rocks and boulders and replaced the crummy housing of Grimmauld Place, but each was as stark as the other. Looking to his side Harry saw the imposing sides of a great tomb and an entrance sunk deep into the sand held up by scaffolding and lit by electric lights. It seemed an odd juxtaposition to the age of the place.

'I think we should go across there,' said Hermione.

She was pointing to a small building opposite. It was aged but not nearly as much as the ones around it. The stone of its walls was a deeper shade, as though the mud bricks it was made of were much newer than those of the tombs everywhere else. Harry strode out across the sand and reached a small door, which was open, underneath a stone awning.

'Well, we didn't come all this way for nothing,' said Harry and stepped through the shadowy doorway.

Harry stalked slowly through the tangle of dry moss and cobwebs hanging from the roof of the entrance corridor. It was narrow and dark and was slightly higher on the right side than the left, giving it something of a lopsided feel. Harry could feel Hermione right behind him, her quick breath blowing against his neck. Somewhere further back he could hear Ron muttering, 'I really don't like this,' to himself; big cobwebs, Harry thought, must equal big spiders, especially for Ron.

The corridor opened into a larger chamber. By the light of his wand Harry could just about make out the roof and the sides of the room. It was dome shaped and sparse with little more than a few jagged rocks, which looked as though they had fallen from the ceiling, and the damaged figure of some Egyptian deity that dominated the centre of the room. There were also several doorways with deep shadows leading off the chamber to hidden horrors that Harry could hardly bear to think about.

'Harry, I'm really not sure about this,' said Ron as the three of the stopped to consider the place.

'Calm down, Ron,' Harry replied. 'You've been to Egypt before; you knew there might be spiders here. Didn't you bring your can of RAID?'

'Very funny,' said Ron as Hermione chortled in the dark. 'You wouldn't like it if you were as scared of them as I am.'

'I bet I wouldn't,' said Harry. 'There must be something we could do about that. Maybe some Felix Felicis, or maybe Hermione could brew -'

'Ssshhhh!' Hermione hissed. 'Did you hear that?'

'Hear that? H-hear what?' Ron stammered. 'Don't tease, Hermione.'

'Be _quiet,_ Ron,' said Hermione imploringly.

'What was it?' Harry whispered, taking a firmer grip on his wand.

'Movement,' Hermione whispered back. Harry could see her eyes shining by his wand light as they scanned around. 'It was like a scuffling. I think there are people here.'

Attention pricked, Harry looked around the dark chamber. It was as silent as Harry had ever experienced; the breathing of both he and Hermione, who was clinging to his robe sleeve, was all he could hear. He flashed his wand towards the opposite wall. There, suddenly, a figure darted behind one of the rugged boulders around the place.

'Expelliarmus!' Harry yelled.

A cacophony of noise exploded around the small cavern in response. It was like an orchestra of cannons as both Ron and Hermione took Harry's lead and fired blindly into the dark, and someone fired back. Or more than one person; Harry counted at least two separate spell streams fly in his direction. He darted out of the way but was distracted as he heard Ron give a squeal and fall to the floor behind him. Harry took aim in the direction that felt best, but then a voice sounded out in the darkness.

'Wait!' It was a boy's voice, perhaps not too much different in age to Harry. 'Show yourself!'

'No chance!' Harry yelled back. 'You show _your_self.'

'How about we show ourselves together?' the voice asked. 'Come into the middle. No spell casting.'

Harry heard movement in his direction and, though slightly dubious at what he was doing, got up and made for it. Three different sets of footsteps stopped nearby and Harry went to re-light his wand but thought better if it in case it was seen as an act of aggression.

'I'm going to perform a spell,' said the boy's voice, closer now than before. 'It's just to give us some light. Okay?'

'Okay.'

The boy spoke a few words in a language Harry didn't recognise at all. A bolt of white light flew up from the darkness and just hung in the air for a few moments. Then it began to expand, growing into a ball of light about the size of a bus. The whole chamber was thrown into stark relief by the new light and for a few seconds Harry was blinded. When his sight returned he found himself staring down the length of a brilliant golden sceptre being pointed at him by the boy who had spoken in the dark.

He was tough looking, rugged but handsome in the way that Cedric Diggory had always been seen. His eyes, narrowed by the globe of light, gave him the look of both predator and prey and his features gave Harry the sense that this boy looked a lot older than he actually was. Strangely, Harry saw a lot of himself in this boy, as though this is what he would look like if he'd been fighting Voldemort actively since he was old enough to hold a wand.

But this boy wasn't holding a wand. Clenched comfortable in strong hands was a sceptre, the kind of thing Harry had seen kings holding in pictures in fairy tale books. It was about as long as his forearm, exquisitely decorated around with rings and carvings around the handle and holding a sphere at the tip facing Harry. This sphere was most unusual; it looked to be made of spun glass and filled with silvery mist being criss-crossed by electric charges of many colours. For a reason he couldn't be sure of, Harry felt very afraid of this weapon.

'Hurt him and you'll die!' said Hermione suddenly. Harry glanced to see her rigid, her wand pointing straight at the boy with the sceptre. Behind him, however, another boy and a very pretty girl were raising their arms. The boy was carrying a short sword with many inscriptions along the blade; the girl, on the other hand, was holding two bright white wands crossed in front of her.

'Touch him and you go next, got it?' the girl said to Hermione.

'Hold on,' said the boy with the sceptre. 'Before we go blasting each other into little bits let's find out who we are. Let's start with you. Who are you?'

Later on Harry would remember feeling very odd about this question. It was the first time he could remember someone not knowing who he was. It created a sensation of being normal that he wasn't used to at all.

'I'm Harry,' he answered. 'Harry Potter.'

'Well, Harry, Harry Potter,' said the boy. 'Welcome to Egypt. We have, of course, been expecting you.'

He lowered his sceptre and smiled for the first time. It was a cheeky sort of smile that made him look his age for the first time.

'You're scruffier than I imagined,' he continued. 'Don't be offended. I like it. Shows you're not a prima donna, which would be easy for you. And you're skinnier than I thought.'

'Yeah, enough of spelling out my faults,' said Harry, affronted. 'Who, exactly, are you?'

'True enough, I haven't introduced myself,' said the boy. 'I, exactly, am Ryan Powell. This ape behind me is my mate Dylan.' The sandy haired boy behind tipped his sword by way of a greeting. 'The girl there is called Enola. Keep your eyes off her, though, she's my girl.'

'Got it,' said Harry. 'What are you doing here?'

'Oh, yeah, sorry about the ambush and all,' said Ryan apologetically. 'Security, you know. It's what we do.'

'Who's "we"?'

'We represent a group known as the Apex Faction. A secret society if you like. We provide protection for wizards who find us and hire us. Magic people who like to disappear, you know. No questions asked as long as they've got the gold.'

'But you're just kids,' said Harry. 'No offence but how can you protect people from adult wizards? There are some bad ones about.'

'Like your friend, Voldemort, I suppose?' said Ryan. 'Truth is we don't do that much of the field work but we are useful because of our age. No-one suspects us and we can move around easier than the adults sometimes. There are adults involved, of course, loads of them. It's because of one of them that you're here.'

'What do you mean?'

'One of our high risk clients,' said Ryan. 'He works for us but he needed to be protected, too. He was the one who contacted you.'

'Contacted? No-one has contacted me,' said Harry.

'A message was sent from one our clients to someone who might be able to contact you,' said Ryan. 'It was weird, actually, 'cause he sent his message to a portrait. First time that's ever happened. It was a picture of the uncle of this particular client.'

'Regulus Black works for you?' said Harry.

'Not so loud, please. Secrecy is of the highest priority here. Try to abide by that. Follow me.'

Ryan guided the globe of light towards the doorway on the left hand wall of the cavern. He led the way towards it and Harry turned to beckon Ron and Hermione, whose wand was still drawn, to follow him. Dylan and Enola took up the rear of the party and they all made their way through the doorway. The globe of light shrank and floated along in front of them down a passageway as dark and cramped as the one which led into the tomb.

'Aren't you going to introduce your friends?' Ryan asked as they walked. 'It's only polite.'

'Oh, er – yeah, course,' said Harry, slightly surprised at being corrected in his manners by someone his own age. 'That's Ron and this is Hermione. You'd better keep your eyes of _her,_ because she's _my _girl.'

'Touché,' said Ryan, smirking.

'Do you mind me asking how old you are?' Harry asked.

'Wouldn't matter if I did because you already have,' said Ryan. 'I'm not sixteen yet.'

'So you're fifteen?' said Hermione, who was now walking alongside Harry with Ryan just in front of them.

'Yeah, I'm fifteen. But nearly sixteen sounds better I think. Mind the step here.'

The path sloped right and eventually opened up into a tight little room that had barely enough space for all sixth of them. The globe of light had shrunk to the size of a beach ball but its lack of light was being compensated for by several powerful torches burning brightly in brackets all around the walls. Ryan beckoned Harry, Ron and Hermione to one side of the room.

'Dyl,' go and tell Mr Black his guests are here,' said Ryan. 'Set up the pool table while you're down there. It's about time I gave you a whipping.'

'Not a chance in hell,' said Dylan grinning. 'I didn't notice the pigs flying today. Tell you what, though, I'll play left handed and with a patch over my eye, just to give you a chance.'

'I'll remind you of your cheek when you're crying into your cue later on,' Ryan retorted. Dylan just laughed, pushed through a brick in one of the walls and went through the door it opened up. Ryan turned to Harry. 'We'll wait until he comes up. He shouldn't be long. He's been hopping up and down waiting for you.'

Harry had the strange image in his mind of a younger version of Sirius hopping around an Egyptian cave waiting for him. The pretty girl, Enola, wandered over to Ryan and stood very close to him. There were looking very intently at each other and though he couldn't be sure Harry felt as though they were communicating somehow. He could see the sparkle of Enola's vibrant eyes in Ryan's and it was as if there was a language there. He looked at Hermione to see her watching him with a sad expression on her face. He got the impression she was upset with him, though he couldn't work out why. He took her hands in his and gently smoothed them, as though trying to develop the sort of communication skills that Ryan and Enola clearly shared. To his surprise Hermione smiled and he felt himself quickly put at ease.

The grinding of a stone door broke Harry from his reverie. He looked up to the source of the sound and saw Dylan standing in a doorway opposite where he was sitting.

'Mr Black will see you in here,' said Dylan. 'More comfortable, or something. Come on then, Ry', you little fart. Get ready to make it twelve losses in a row.'

'I play the winner,' said Enola. 'You boys need to be shown how to lose and I'm just the girl to do it.'

'To be honest, Ennie, I'm more wary of you than Ryan,' said Dylan.

'Funny that, isn't it?' she said winking at Ryan. 'He does have so much on his mind, maybe that's why he's so bad. He is pretty, though.'

'That's a matter of opinion,' said Dylan.

'Come on, get to it,' said Ryan. 'Loser makes the tea.' He turned to Harry and the others. 'It was nice, sort of meeting you. I hope we get another opportunity.'

'Yeah,' said Harry, surprised by how much he meant it. 'See you again.'

'Yeah. Ron, Hermione. Beautiful name, that. Is it Greek?'

'I-I don't think so,' said Hermione flushing. My mum and dad are dentists.'

'Never knew that was a nationality,' said Ryan grinning. 'Good luck doing whatever you're doing. Bye.'

And with that he disappeared after Dylan and Enola and was gone. Harry led the way cautiously through the open doorway and into a dimmed room, lit by soft blue lights set in high shades against the ceiling. The place was full of squashy armchairs and pouffes and didn't seem to belong in this place. The stonework of the walls and floors was covered by paintings and tapestries and a soft black carpet respectively. The three of them crossed the floor and were just about to settle down into chairs when they were startled by a voice from the shadows.

'Harry Potter, it's true what they say – you really are a spitting image of your father.'

'So I've been told,' said Harry. 'Don't bother telling me I've got my mum's eyes when you get closer, I've heard that a million times as well.'

'I never knew your mother,' said Regulus moving into the light. He looked thin and haggard, not too unlike his brother as Harry remembered him. 'Why so aggressive, Harry?'

'Sorry but you were a Death Eater,' said Harry. 'Hardly the easiest person for me to trust.'

'I understand,' said Regulus. 'To own the truth, I expected resistance from you. But I hope the importance of what you are trying to do will enable you to see past that for now. It isn't a period of my life I look back at with fondness.'

'What do you know about that?' asked Harry.

'Destroying a Horcrux leaves a mark, Harry,' said Regulus sitting down. 'Not too unlike that scar on your head. After I destroyed one I felt it if anything happened to the others.'

'How? Dumbledore said that Voldemort couldn't sense if anything was happening to them, so how could you?'

Regulus had flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name, something Harry thought might be a rouse to endear him to them.

'I don't know how, I'm not the cleverest of men,' he said.

'That much is obvious,' said Harry sharply.

'Working for Him was a mistake of youth, but I did manage to destroy one of his Horcruxes so I must have had some brains.'

'How can I believe you?' said Harry. 'How do I know you destroyed it?'

'That's the reason I've called you here,' said Regulus. 'Of course I can't show you the remains of the locket. It was obliterated.'

'Then you have no proof!' Harry cried. 'For all I know you didn't destroy the locket – or couldn't.'

'I did, and the only way I can prove it is by telling you what he replaced it with.'

Harry stopped his planned rant dead in its tracks.

_'Replaced?'_ he said. 'What do you mean, "replaced"?'

'He knew that I was on to what he was trying to do,' said Regulus. 'Somehow he worked out from the note I left him that it was me. He decided to leave the locket as a decoy, a safeguard in case someone else managed to get onto his case. He tracked me down, sent loads of his men after me. It was only when I managed to get into Syria that I was partly safe. It's so volatile there that it was easy to slip underground. That's when I learnt about the Faction. I spend all the gold I have on their services.'

'But you said you knew he had replaced a Horcrux?' said Hermione. 'I didn't even think that was possible.'

'A wizard can split his soul into the tiniest pieces he wants,' said Regulus. 'But the Dark Lord always wanted seven just to have the magical power of that number. When he knew I had destroyed his precious locket he had to replace it. I think it was the post difficult splitting of them all.'

'How did you know what it was?' asked Harry, now seated.

'He liked to collect things,' said Regulus. 'His Horcruxes had either personal or universal value. They were blue chip items in his magical world. The items belonging to the Four Founders were his personal favourites, as any surviving relics of theirs are so rare and valuable. I knew that when the locket was destroyed he would go for something else belonging to Ravenclaw. Something that would serve a dual purpose.'

'Get to it,' said Harry impatiently.

'I knew it when I was given a copy of the Daily Prophet. They were reporting all the people going missing. I didn't pay much attention until I read about one wizard. It was when they took Ollivander that I knew.'

'Ollivander?' said Harry and Hermione together. 'The wand maker?'

'The wand maker,' Regulus echoed. 'He kept his prised possession on display in his shop window. Stupid, really, for something so valuable.'

Harry though hard back to his first day in Diagon Alley. He pictured Ollivnder's creepy shop and its dusty windows. Then it came to him.

'It was a wand,' said Harry. 'On a velvet cushion. Purple velvet.'

'And who is purple associated with at Hogwarts?'

'Ravenclaw!' said Hermione. 'It's on their crest.'

'Rowena Ravenclaw,' said Regulus. 'It was her wand; there was some family connection there if I remember right. The Dark Lord would have seen that as an easy target.'

'Didn't you say something about a dual purpose?' said Hermione.

'I did. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't Harry's wand have a particular connection with the Dark Lords?'

'Yeah, they're brothers,' said Harry. 'How do you know that?'

'The Dark Lord doesn't often find himself matched in a duel,' said Regulus smiling. 'Word gets around. He can't rely on his wand against you in case you manage to meet his spell with one of your own again. But if he has another wand, especially a powerful and old one like Ravenclaw's, then it removes that problem. The power of Ravenclaw's wand will also balance out the oddity that a wizard never achieves such good results with a wand that isn't his own.'

'Great,' said Harry. 'So now not only do I have to deal with Voldemort's power but also Ravenclaw's too. Great. Fantastic.'

'Does he keep the wand with him?' asked Hermione.

'I would expect so,' said Regulus. 'If only for when he meets Harry.'

'So it's all going to be decided in the end,' said Harry. 'If I can't destroy the locket, because it's already destroyed, then I'll have to try and take the last three Horcruxes together. I'm right in thinking his snake is one, aren't I?'

'Very astute,' said Regulus. 'And the easiest one to destroy I think.'

'Really? How's that?' asked Ron, surprising Harry who had forgotten he was there.

'Well it's a living creature, it can be killed like anything else. The objects required sacrifice to destroy. There are many ways to kill a living thing; poison, destroying the body, finding the enemy of the snake in the animal world and let it do the job for you. There's a decent list.'

'Just so long as I can avoid Voldemort long enough to do any of them,' said Harry sarcastically.

'I'm sure you'll find a way,' said Regulus. 'You've done well enough so far. Just remember that he sees you as his nemesis. He was wary of Dumbledore but more so of what he could teach you, knowing that you were the real danger to him. You were the baby who thwarter him, after all. He's as reluctant to meet you in battle are you are of him. He suspected that Dumbledore could beat him, but he knows that you can. It's an advantage you'd do well to remember, because its one no-one else has had against him.'

There then seemed to arrive a finality about the meeting. After several minutes of awkward silences and idle chit chat Harry rose and said they had better be going. Regulus got up and led them back to the door.

'I'm sorry I asked you to come all this way only for information that you think is useless,' he said. 'But I thought you'd want to know so you wouldn't go on wild goose chases after things you think might be Horcruxes.'

'Yeah, thanks for that,' said Harry with a passable level of civility. He was about to open the door when Regulus grabbed him by the arm.

'Harry – my brother, how did he die?'

Harry swallowed hard before answering. 'Valiantly and with courage. Fighting Voldemort, doing the right thing. Shame more of his family chose the easy path instead of right one, the one Sirius chose.'

Regulus nodded glumly and let go of Harry, who shook his sleeve and left the room. Back in the little reception they found Ryan waiting for them.

'Hello,' he said cheerfully. 'Get what you came for?'

'Not really,' said Harry.

'Hmmm, shame,' said Ryan. 'Bit of a trek for nothing. Come on, I'll show you out.'

They made their way back along the narrow passage, Ryan leading Harry and Hermione with Ron pulling up the rear.

'How did the pool go?' Harry asked.

'Not well,' said Ryan evasively. 'It's the cue's fault. It's a dud. Bias is all wrong the base…'

Soon they were back in the domed cavern crossing towards the exit corridor. Ryan stopped at the doorway and waited for them to pass him.

'Well, this is as far as I can go,' he said. 'It's a straight path out, just like on the way in really.'

'Thanks,' said Harry.

'Here, take this,' said Ryan thrusting a small card into Harry's hand. 'It's the number of box at the post office, Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley branches. It's how our international clients get in touch with us. 100 safe. If you need anything, drop us a line.'

'I'll keep it in mind,' said Harry. He slipped the card safely into his cloak and made his way along the little chamber and into the evening air thinking that maybe the trip to Egypt hadn't been such a waste of a journey after all.


	16. A Little Discovery

Author Note: After some disappointing reviews lately I was going to abandon this fic but listening to the Harmony Podcast and some of the songs revived my desire to plod on with it. And the fact that I was annoying myself by being such a whiny little baby. I cant please everyone and I apologise to those readers who have changed their minds on this story. Even being published in real life hasn't made me totally good. Still don't know where this is going totally but I'm sure something will spring to mind (answers on a postcard but please don't suggest the rubbish bin!). P.s. ignore typos, I have many!

Chapter 16 – A Little Discovery

Autumn became winter seemingly overnight. The chilly breezes of mid-November gave way to full blown icy winds and frost tinted mornings. The fires of Grimmauld Place were constantly lit due to a clever little Ever-Burning charm Hermione performed on the grates. This made the house, as cold as could be and barely habitable at the height of summer, at least a little more comfortable to move around in.

Not that Harry was spending much time there these days. He had made a promise to Professor McGonagall that the proposed practical Defence class would begin in the term after New Year. That left just over a month of preparation time for the first lesson, but Hermione had thought it best to create an entire term plan. Privately, Harry agreed with her, but he was nevertheless vocal in his complaints about such a hefty workload.

"Is this really necessary?" he moaned as Hermione made him slave through _Grindylows and their Weaknesses. _"I've fought these things. I know how to get rid of them."

"It doesn't hurt to refresh your memory," said Hermione bossily. "If you don't stop whingeing I'll make you train to wrestle a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Would you like that? I'm sure Hagrid has some running around somewhere, or, heaven forbid, something worse he might have concocted."

She cast a cautionary glance out of the window as if expecting to see some foul, many-winged and many-fanged beast fly past the castle on cue.

"A-ha!" cried Harry triumphantly. "Finally, you start playing to my strengths."

"Harry – you know I love you but a member of the WWF you are not."

"Good. If there's one thing I can't stand it's those tree-hugging hippy activists and their goody-two-shoes causes."

Hermione gave him a pitying, that-really-is-a-bad-joke sort of look and went back to whatever book she had been poring over. Harry went back to his own book but not before noticing that Hermione's volume was far smaller than his. He felt that there was definitely something wrong in the world when a situation like that arose.

"What's that you're reading?" he asked.

"It's about pixies," she replied without looking up.

"Remember that time in Gilderoi's class with the Cornish pixies," said Harry recalling his only encounter with the sprite-like beings. "Wonder how he's doing now."

"Don't call him _Gilde-wah,"_ said Hermione.

"Oh I'm _sorry_," said Harry sardonically. "But I don't think you're pet name of 'darling old Lockie' would sound very good coming from my mouth."

"Then don't call him that either," said Hermione. "People will start talking about you."

"That'd make a refreshing change," said Harry.

The planning was going slowly and Harry wasn't sure all this reading was as essential as Hermione did. It was, after all, supposed to be a practical Defence class and as far as Harry was concerned it would be just like an extended DA session – with just another DA added to the name.

Hermione, it seemed, favoured a more academic approach. This didn't surprise Harry at all; it was Hermione and academic achievement was always likely to be high on her agenda. Harry's dilemma was whether or not he could convince her to strike a balance between the two approaches, with practical learning slightly more important. At the moment, though, he didn't dare broach the subject. Hermione had been in a peculiar mood for days, always on the edge of snapping. When Harry had asked her what was wrong, after she had sulked for half an hour over him only putting one sugar in her tea, her only response was that he was a boy and wouldn't understand. With that in mind Harry decided it was best to keep his distance until whatever was affecting her had passed.

So much of Harry's time was spent wandering the Hogwarts grounds, thinking. His thoughts drifted from one thing to another without really settling on anything. Most often his thoughts trained on Voldemort, where he was, what he was doing and who he planned to kill next. Other times he thought about Regulus Black, whether he was still safe in his Egyptian exile; this led his thoughts inevitably to Ryan and his friends and what they were doing. He spent a lot of time sitting by the enormous tomb of Albus Dumbledore, staring into the carved facade as if trying to glean some otherworldly advice on what to do next. None was forthcoming, however, and at these times Harry gave into the sensation that his ears were burning and returned to Hermione to stop her cursing him for his lack of application to the DADA planning.

It was strange being back at the castle again during term time. It felt oddly empty, a sensation that Harry thought had little to do with the several hundred missing students who hadn't returned to the school. It was the unfamiliar sight of Professor McGonagall on the Headmasters chair, the lack of that intangible presence that Harry had always known was there but only appreciated now that it was gone. Hogwarts just didn't feel the same, didn't feel like home, without Dumbledore there.

This emptiness was coupled with a constant sense of anticipation that seemed to follow Harry around from the time he woke to whatever unearthly hour he finally drifted off to sleep. The feeling of waiting for something to happen, a prompt to drive him to action. The remaining pieces of Voldemort's soul were all with the man himself and until the time of the inevitable final confrontation arrived Harry was a little useless. It added up to a burgeoning feeling of inadequacy borne out of self-doubt that had been building in Harry for some time.

"What do you think you should be doing?" Ron had asked when Harry told him of his concerns. He had moved back into Hogwarts, as Harry and Hermione were there practically every day, and Harry had confided in him as he couldn't face admitting something like this to Hermione.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "Something, anything. I just feel I should be doing something to help the Order. It's not like they're doing that well."

"That's true," said Ron who was looking over a copy of the Daily Prophet, the cover of which reported the death of Kingsley Shacklebolt. "How many can they have left?"

"Who knows," said Harry. "Why don't we ever hear about Death Eaters getting killed? Why is it always captured and arrested? They only escape to kill again."

"So you'd prefer to kill not capture?" said Hermione, who Harry hadn't heard enter the Gryffindor Common Room, where he and Ron were talking. "That was the sort of thing Barty Crouch wanted and look where he ended up."

"Yeah, well, I don't have a manic of a son chasing after me to do me in for the sake of Voldemort."

"Perhaps if you did you might be little more focused," Hermione said waspishly.

"What's gotten into you?" said Harry, rounding on her. "What have I done now?"

"Nothing, that's the point," Hermione snapped, returning Harry's tone with a sharp one of her own.

"There's plenty of time to plan the lessons," said Harry. "What's the rush?"

"The rush, _dear_, is that I know you weren't planning to teach this class for the benefit of everyone here. I know your real reason; you forget how well I know _you._"

"And what is that then?"

"You planned to learn some of the Dark Arts to use against Voldemort," said Hermione bluntly. To his left Harry heard Ron gasp and on some deep level he knew that the suggestion mist have been truly bad to make Ron disapprove. He didn't really register it, though, as his gaze was burning into Hermione's face.

"How can you even suggest that?" said Harry.

"Because it's the truth, isn't it?"

"No," said Harry, whose tone didn't even convince himself.

"Oh come off it, Harry," said Hermione. "You told McGonagall you wanted to _use the resources _here. You know that as a teacher you could access all the Dark Arts text books without needing a permission slip. Never crossed your mind, did it?"

"Not once," said Harry, lying resolutely. "You seem to have given the idea a bit of thought, though."

"Meaning what?"

"Enough!" said Ron forcefully. "If you want to have a lovers tiff you'd be better off doing it a home. People are starting to stare."

"Hang everybody else!" cried Hermione. "This is much more important than a few eavesdropping kids!"

"Always such a people person," said Ron smirking in Harry's direction.

"Er, I don't think antagonising her is a good idea," said Harry warningly.

"Why? Its only Hermione? Not like she's going to do anything nasty, is it?"

Harry groaned and closed his eyes. He didn't have to wait more than a few seconds.

"_Only Hermione?"_ Hermione cried shrilly. "We'll see how much it's only me."

She waved her wand at Ron and out shot at least fifty spiders that all began scampering towards him. Harry watched in a mixture of amusement and horror as Ron seemed to take off from a seating position and fly onto the window sill.

"Lets see how to get out of that without _only me_ to save you this time," said Hermione.

"Hermione, get rid of them, that's enough," said Harry as Hermione ordered the spiders to torment Ron. "You know how scared of them he is."

"Then maybe I should send them at you!"

Harry saw the spiders spin around and make for him. He drew his wand, gave it a lazy little flick and they all vanished into thin air.

"Any more parlour tricks, or are you just going to tell me what's wrong?" asked Harry.

"You really just don't get it, do you?" said Hermione, who no longer seemed angry but on the edge of tears.

"Obviously not," said Harry. "Why don't you enlighten me?"

"Oh forget it, Harry," said Hermione before turning on her heel and storming from the room.

"Why are women such flaming hard work?" Harry cried in frustration.

"I know, I know," said Ron coming up behind. "I'm meeting Luna for dinner. Fancy joining us?"

"I should go after Hermione," said Harry. "That's what she would expect me to do."

"In that kind of mood? I know you're brave, Harry, but I didn't think you were getting suicidal. Come on, she'll come to you when she's calmed down. Let's eat, I'm starved."

Against his better judgement, Harry followed Ron from the common room. He doubted that Hermione would come to him as Ron thought and couldn't shake an image of Hermione waiting in an empty classroom for him, pacing around and checking the time every couple of seconds, getting angrier as time passed. The thought was too frightening to spend much time on.

Ron met Luna in the Entrance Hall. She was wearing her radish earrings and her skin seemed to twinkle in the flickering torchlight. Ron kissed her uncertainly on the cheek, as if worried that Harry would laugh at his technique. Harry only grinned to himself, though, something he thought was excellently restrained of himself.

"Hello, Luna," he said.

"Oh, hello, Harry," said Luna dreamily. "Are you having dinner with us?"

"If there's room," said Harry.

"Oh there's plenty of space," said Luna, casting a look into the Great Hall. "All the Slytherin students are at home being trained into Death Eaters and shapeshifters."

"Ah," said Harry, grinning at Ron who had turned a colour similar to Luna's earrings.

"Shall we go in?" Ron suggested.

Harry nodded at Ron led the way across the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table. People weren't quite as rigid, Harry noticed, with the seating as usual. Seamus was over talking with Terry Boot on the Ravenclaw table, there were a couple of Hufflepuff Quidditch players talking animatedly with their Gryffindor counterparts not far from where Harry was sat and there were a few couples hunched close on the otherwise empty Slytherin table. Somehow, it just didn't feel right.

"Ah, grub! Excellent!" cried Ron as the table was suddenly laded with various dishes. "No matter what happens in the world the Hogwarts House-Elves always put on a good spread."

For a while there was no conversation as they ate. Ron was more gannet-like than normal and seemed to be eating as though it were going out of fashion. Luna was picking merrily at a chicken pie and watching Ron with a bizarre look on her face that Harry had a hard time placing as amusement or despair. There was enough entertainment in watching these two to last Harry a lifetime. Luna, as was her way, had to break his enjoyment with her typical awkward observations.

"Where is Hermione tonight?" she asked. "I saw her crying upstairs not long ago. She seemed very upset, it must have been something very serious for her."

"Her and Harry had a row," said Ron. "She wouldn't tell him what about."

"It's probably something personal," said Luna thoughtfully. "She's quite emotional. It must be private or something you don't talk about in public."

"Like what?" asked Harry eagerly.

"Women have problems that boys don't," said Luna. "They aren't nice ones, either."

"Ha!" laughed Ron. "I know what it is! Don't worry, Harry – give it a couple of days and it'll be all over."

"I think I'm going to go and find her," said Harry getting up. "She'll only be mad at me if I don't. I'll see you later."

Harry left the Great Hall and made his way back upstairs to look for Hermione. He didn't know where to start; if only he had his Marauders Map he would be able to find her easily. But the castle seemed very big when you were looking for one person. Passing the window Harry glanced out across the Lake. He was struck by a flood of memories of walks around the banks with Hermione. He chided himself for not realising sooner what they could have had, lamenting the wasted time. As he did so he noticed a small figure sat on the edge of the water. Harry thought he might have just swallowed a vat of Felix Felicis so turned on his heel and made his way back downstairs.

As he expected, the figure on the bank was indeed Hermione. She was tossing stones into the water and watching the ripple until they disappeared. Harry moved quietly up and sat beside her.

"You don't know how long I've been looking for you," he said, thinking it was best to look like he had been doing what he should have been.

"You're a bad liar, Harry," said Hermione. "I saw you up at the window on Gryffindor tower a few minutes ago."

"One day you'll miss a trick and I'll get one over on you," said Harry. "I'm sorry."

"It's my fault, too," said Hermione. "I shouldn't be taking my problems out on you."

"That's what I'm here for," said Harry. "Besides, I know what the problem is now so don't worry. I'll help you through it."

"You'll what?" said Hermione. "Help me thorough what?"

"Y-you're problem," said Harry, less assured by Hermione's tone. "You're _women's problems_."

Hermione laughed out loud. "Oh, Harry! You're so sweet. Naïve, but so sweet. I admire you for trying that one. Most boys would have kept their distance."

"Well I'm here to take all you've got, like I said."

"That's good to know," said Hermione. "Trouble is, that isn't the problem."

"It isn't?"

"Well – it is and it _isn't. _If you know what I mean."

"Um – no," said Harry blankly."

"Do I always have to connect the dots for you? Lead you from A to B to C so that your little boys mind can comprehend? We'd have so much more fun if you just tried to figure it out."

"Hermione," Harry pressed.

"Okay, think of it like this – my problem isn't with _that,_ but because of the lack of it."

"Lack of it?" Harry repeated. "You mean you haven't had… you mean…"

"At last he understands," said Hermione as Harry stared at her.

"Oh…" said Harry. "W-what does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?" Hermione said. "Biology not your best subject, is it?"

"But you can't be…can't be…_that_," Harry stammered.

"I can, but I might not be," said Hermione. "I'm late, that's all. And I'm never late. You know me, do everything as efficient as possible."

"How late?"

"A few days."

"Is that a lot?"

"For me it is," said Hermione. "I'm never usually more than a day either side of when I should be. It's been five now."

"Maybe it was something you ate," said Harry, slightly desperate. "Maybe it was something you didn't eat."

"It doesn't work like that, babe," said Hermione.

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"Don't you mean what are _we_ going to do?" she said. "This is a joint thing."

"Yeah – course," said Harry.

"Nothing's certain yet," said Hermione. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Another thing to think about," Harry said, trying not to sound overwhelmed. "Remember the old days when things were easy for us?"

"Things have never been easy for us," Hermione corrected him. "The only easy day we've had was when we met on the train our first day at Hogwarts. And even that wasn't easy because I was annoying enough to make you dislike me at first."

"That isn't true," Harry protested. "I never disliked you."

"Much," Hermione said with a smirk.

"Okay, so you were hard work at first," Harry admitted. "But you mellowed as soon as you came around to mine and Ron's way of thinking."

"Excuse me but I have never, and I hope I never do, think like you and Ron," said Hermione hotly. "I take that as an insult. I have some dignity, you know. Breaking fifty school rules in one go was hardly a clever plan."

"It worked though," said Harry. "And you enjoyed it, really. All that, _'you're a great wizard, Harry,_' stuff. Been flirting with me for years, really, haven't you?"

"And look how long it's taken you to notice!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I was thinking about that earlier," said Harry. "We could have had this so much sooner. I think I was just waiting for you to grow boobs!"

"You cheeky sod!" said Hermione, giving him a playful slap.

"One thing I always wanted to know, though," said Harry, "now that we're talking about the old days."

"Yeah?"

"Remember down under the school, just before you took the potion to go through the wall of fire?"

"Course."

"You said something like there being more important things than books and cleverness. Friendship was one, I think bravery was another, but you were going to say something else before you threw yourself at me."

"I did not throw myself at you!" Hermione protested.

"Yes you did," said Harry. "I remember because it was the first proper hug I'd ever got. The only other ones were bear-hugs from Dudley when he was trying to crack my ribs."

"Oh, Harry!" said Hermione. "I never knew that."

"I'm full of surprises," said Harry, grinning. "So, come on, what was thing number three?"

"Friendship, bravery," said Hermione counting them off on her fingers. "And love, obviously. I thought you might have worked that out, but then you are as thick as a corned beef sandwich so I shouldn't have expected too much."

"Great for my self-confidence you are," said Harry. "Why didn't you say love then? Or were you just so overpowered by the emotion that you just hugged me."

"Probably," Hermione replied. For a few moments Harry just watched the ripple of the moonlight on the lake reflected in Hermione's eyes.

"I was just joking," said Harry.

"I wasn't."

"Star-crossed lovers, are we?" asked Harry. "A proper little Romeo and Juliet."

"And why not?" asked Hermione. "There's no reason why it shouldn't be like that. You've got things I don't have and things you need I can give you. I think we make up what the other misses quite well."

"Talking about missing things we'd better get back up to the castle, try and catch the end of dinner," said Harry. "Especially if you're, er, eating for two!"

"Hey!" cried Hermione. "And Harry -"

"I know - not a word to Ron. Come on."

Harry helped Hermione to her feet and they made their way back up the bank towards the school. As they reached the light filtering out from the Entrance Hall, Harry happened to glance over towards the outline of Hagrid's cabin. His eye was caught at the school gates where silhouetted against the light from Hagrid's hut a figure was clearly visible.

"Who's that?" Harry said to Hermione.

"I don't know," she replied. "I can't make it out from here."

"Let's go and look," said Harry.

"Harry, I don't think that's a good idea," said Hermione. "We should get someone else to do it. Filch, maybe. Or Hagrid."

"It won't take a minute," said Harry, who was already moving towards the path. Hermione, somewhat reluctantly, followed and they made their way up the winding road to the gates. About fifty yards from the gates Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his heart beating hard. From the light it was clear who this was. There was just no mistaking that sallow skin, the mass of greasy hair or the hooked nose amplified in profile.

Severus Snape was at the gates of Hogwarts, trying to get in.


	17. A Helping Hand

Chapter 17 – A Helping Hand

For a moment, Harry felt frozen. Whatever he had expected to find at the school gates this turn of events was about as far away from that as he could have imagined. His momentary paralysis gave him time to weigh up Snape; his skin seemed somehow sallower than usual, though Harry accepted this could be due to the lack of light around, but he also appeared somewhat bedraggled and untidy. No matter how much Harry had always detested the sight of Snape he always looked well presented.

"You!" Harry breathed.

"Potter," Snape sneered by way of reply.

Harry righted himself at the sound of his name escaping the lips of this most hated of men. His wand was out quick as a flash, pointing at the small target where Harry assumed Snape's black heart might have been.

"Harry, I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione whispered at his side.

"I think I know best on this one, Hermione," said Harry, barely able to believe that she was trying to talk him out of this.

"Please yourself," Hermione sighed. Harry ignored her for the most part, but there was lack of conviction in the way he performed the Disarming spell.

"Stupefy!" he cried. It took only a moment to remember why Hermione was always worth listening to. Harry's spell shot from the end of his wand, hit the gates separating him from Snape and rebounded back, smashing him squarely in the chest. He was thrown back several feet by the impact and landed with an uncomfortable thud on the path behind. His wand span in the air and came down neatly for Hermione to catch.

"Now, you know I'm not the kind to say _'I told you so,'_" Hermione began as Harry got gingerly to his feet and rejoined her.

"Then don't start being one now," Harry snapped as he interrupted her.

"There's no need to be like that, Harry," said Hermione, her voice betraying a trace of hurt. "I'm only looking out for you, you know."

"Then in future why not just _tell _me when something like that's going to happen before I make myself look like an idiot. You may enjoy riddles but they aren't my thing."

"You're right, I'm sorry," said Hermione solemnly.

"What a pair of dunderheads you are," cackled Snape. "You would have thought, in your position, that you would be concentrating on bigger issues but instead you bicker between yourselves. The Dark Lord knows all too well that your greatest weakness is each other. He really has little to fear from either of you."

"I wouldn't be so confident about yourself," said Harry.

"Really?" said Snape sarcastically. "Have you developed hitherto unknown skills, Potter? Or are you just relying on _someone else's_ talents yet again? You really are a joke. Without Dumbledore you're just a puny little boy; just as vulnerable, just as powerless to prevent the inevitable."

"Vulnerable, eh?" said Harry. "You can't even get through the gates! How dangerous can you be?"

"The magic on this school is older and more powerful than anything you could even perceive," said Snape. "But like all barriers there is a way through."

"And why exactly would you want to get through?" asked Harry.

"The day I start sharing my personal business with you, Potter, is the day Hagrid becomes a member of the League of Geniuses," Snape sneered. "And in any case, do you really think I would just come out and answer your question? Interrogation seems to be yet another area in which you have the skills and subtlety of a troll."

"Well perhaps you could teach him now that it looks like Voldemort has kicked you out," said Hermione.

Snape recoiled slightly. "The Dark Lord has not kicked me out."

"Really?" said Hermione. "Just trying to break into the school in the dead of night to swim with the Giant Squid then, I suppose?"

"I offer you the same response I gave to Potter just a moment ago," said Snape. "Or are you deaf as well as, _hem_, _blind?"_

Snape nodded towards Harry as a signal of his insult.

"The day I take advice from you on my love life will be the day that greasy skin and straggly curtain hair becomes the height of fashion, and though you dream of that day I can't see it arriving any time soon."

Harry chuckled as Snape's expression darkened through the gates. A scraping from down the path drew everyone's attention and Harry turned to see Hagrid loping up the steep bank towards them.

"What you two doin' out this late?" he asked. "You shouldn't be out wanderin' the grounds."

"We saw Snape standing at the school gates and came to ward him off," said Harry.

"Snape?" said Hagrid, alarmed. "Where?"

"Right…there," said Harry, who was surprised to find, on spinning back around, that Snape has vanished. Comfortingly, the gates were still firmly shut.

"He was here a moment ago," said Harry.

"He was," said Hermione, nodding to Hagrid in agreement. "He must have Disapparated."

"He was outside the grounds," said Harry in thought.

"Well who am I to question the word of the both of ya?" said Hagrid. "Should tell McGonagall first thing. C'mon, I'll walk ya back up to the castle."

There was no talking on the walk back up and the atmosphere was distinctly edgy. Harry was peering through the darkness, trying to pick out any shadow that might be Snape stealing around the grounds. But there was none to be seen and soon enough he and Hermione were bidding goodnight to Hagrid and making their way towards Gryffindor Tower.

"What do you think he was after?" said Harry before the portrait had even swung closed.

"Take your pick," replied Hermione. "Could have been any of a hundred things. None of them good."

"Well at least we know he can't get in," said Harry. "That's something."

"For now," said Hermione darkly.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Harry," said Hermione exasperatedly. "If Snape was trying to break into Hogwarts in the dead of night then there is obviously something he wants, or something he wants to do. Don't tell me that all your experiences of the last six years have taught you nothing. You don't really think that just because we stopped him from concentrating on the protection charms once that he won't try again?"

"Well, no, of course not," said Harry unconvincingly. "But he must know that we are going to tell McGonagall or the Order and that it won't be as easy for him."

"Harry – do you really think that Snape is at all worried about McGonagall?" asked Hermione. "The snake killed Dumbledore. McGonagall is powerful but nowhere near as much as Dumbledore or, I'm sorry to say, anywhere near as strong as Snape."

Harry made to argue but lost heart when he thought that Hermione was probably right. They were now sat beside the fire, its crumbling embers throwing the room into a subtle red relief.

"Then we have to do something," said Harry after a few silent moments. "He may not be afraid of McGonagall or the Order but he will be wary of me. That's something at least."

"But what do you expect to do?" asked Hermione. "Patrol the castle perimeter morning, noon and night? That's not realistic, is it? Besides, you need to be fresh and alert in case anything unexpected arises. Cant have the Boy Wonder Who Lived fighting Voldemort, Snape and goodness knows who else at the same time he's fighting his own fatigue."

"Don't call me that," said Harry meekly. "I don't like hearing you say it."

"Why not?" asked Hermione. "I quite like the idea of being Mrs Chosen One. Oh…"

Hermione suddenly turned away. Harry felt the awkwardness wash over him at a stroke. It took him a moment to realise why as he processed what Hermione had inadvertently suggested. Oddly, he didn't feel quite as embarrassed about it."

"What's up?" he asked.

"Oh, well, you know," said Hermione distantly. "I didn't mean – I mean, I didn't _not_ mean… if you know what I mean?"

"Not really," said Harry smirking. "It's ok."

"It is?"

"Yeah," said Harry rising. "Besides, my mum and dad only started going out in seventh year and this would have been ours. Night."

Harry left her grinning alone thinking this was a pretty good way to part.

In Headmistress McGonagall's office the next morning the atmosphere was tense as Harry retold the story of his night-time meeting with Snape. Professor McGonagall listened closely to Harry's words, her face visibly contorting every time Harry mentioned the name of his most hated Hogwarts teacher. When he was done they both sat very quietly; what Professor McGonagall was thinking Harry couldn't even guess – her expression was stern but then it always was anyway so that gave nothing away. Harry, for his part, merely occupied himself by looking around the circular office, lamenting the warmth and comfort which had abandoned it with the passing of Dumbledore.

Presently, Professor McGonagall spoke. "So you believe Severus Snape was trying to break into Hogwarts?"

"Yes," said Harry, fighting the urge to extol the obviousness of events.

"And you say Hermione Granger was with you, and that both she and Hagrid can corroborate this story?"

"Hermione can," said Harry. "But when Hagrid turned up Snape disappeared. He must have Disapparated because one minute he was there and the next he was gone."

"And how did his mood seem?" asked McGonagall.

"H-his mood?" asked Harry, thrown by the question.

"Yes, his mood, Potter," McGonagall repeated firmly. "His manner – was it agitated, angry, desperate?"

"I couldn't really tell," said Harry. "It was dark and he blended into the night. He was his usual git self when he spoke."

"You will check your gutter language at the door," said the Headmistress with a frown.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "But we both know it is true."

"I'm not suggesting otherwise, but some things are better left unsaid."

"What do you think he could have wanted, Professor?" asked Harry.

"Hogwarts has many lures for someone like him," said McGonagall standing and moving to the window. "The possibilities are vast. Secrets, powers, people – there is an extensive list."

Harry couldn't help sensing that Professor McGonagall wasn't nearly as troubled by this as he thought she ought to be. Her manner was almost disinterested.

"What are we going to do about this, Professor?" asked Harry. "Something needs to be done."

"We aren't going to do anything," said McGonagall. "The security of Hogwarts and the safety of its students is my responsibility. Don't concern yourself with any of that, Potter. I've seen enough of your bright ideas over the years to guess pretty confidently that you fancy yourself as Chief Protector of the school, but you will leave this to me. Unless I am mistaken you have a lesson plan that needs completing soon. Focus on that, not on other things."

There was a finality in her tone that told Harry the discussion was over. _He_ knew _her_ well enough to know it was pointless to debate the point so made his courtesies and left. Walking along the corridors crowded with students on their way to lessons Harry couldn't help but wonder how much danger they were all in, and how little he believed Headmistress McGonagall was going to do about it. Again, it seemed, the responsibility to act would fall to him, as he told Hermione when he met her in the Gryffindor common room. To his immense surprise, she agreed with him.

"I'm not really that surprised," she said. "I didn't think she would do much."

"Why not?" asked Harry incredulously. "Snape is threatening the school! I think that's a pretty important thing to act on."

"Well you know what the teachers are like," said Hermione. "They all think the castle is impenetrable. All the charms and spells, they don't think anyone can reach them here. Voldemort hasn't so they don't think anyone else can. They just all turn a blind eye until something actually happens."

"Like the night Dumbledore was murdered," said Harry angrily.

"Exactly. They weren't prepared at all, and to be honest they aren't now. That's why I preferred to stay away from here. It's too vulnerable."

"Then we have to do something about it," said Harry.

"Like what?" asked Hermione. "We've already been over this. You can't do it yourself."

"I know. I've been thinking about that," said Harry. "I think I might ask for a favour."

"Who owes you a favour?" asked Hermione, slightly suspiciously.

"Nobody," said Harry. "But I might be able to get one."

"From who?"

"Remember those people we met in Egypt? The Apex Faction, or whatever they called themselves. That guy, Ryan, gave me a card, told me to get in touch if I needed anything. I think this situation fits, don't you?"

"I don't know, Harry," said Hermione. "I'm not sure I liked those kids, there was something dodgy about the whole thing."

"I thought they were okay," said Harry. "Besides, guarding stuff is their speciality. They might be of some use."

Hermione continued to voice her concerns about Harry's plan but despite her protests he was determined to carry on with it. Early the next morning Harry made his way out of the castle and up towards Hogsmeade. He passed Hagrid tending the pumpkin patch but everywhere else was deathly quiet. The village was largely deserted and most of the shops and businesses here had been abandoned. Indeed, the post office itself was only open half a day and insisted on rigorous security checks before allowing admittance.

After successfully proving that he was who he claimed to be, Harry made his way to the counter. He spoke to a kindly middle aged witch, explaining about the special box and showing the card he had been given. The witch looked puzzled and it was only when Harry was passed onto the postmaster did he get anywhere. He was shown into a back room which had a potent musty smell and looked as though it had barely been used in years. The postmaster entered behind him and shut the door before turning to speak.

"May I see the card?" he asked. Harry handed it over. "That seems to be in order. I have never used this box, and I've been here thirty years. I don't suppose you're likely to tell me what it's for?"

"Afraid not," said Harry.

"Ah well, just my curiosity," said the postmaster. He drew his wand and rapped it smartly three times on the shelf of a rickety bookcase propped against the left-hand wall of the room. It wobbled and vibrated, gave off a dull buzz and shook some more. Harry was half-convinced that the rotting wood was about to collapse when the whole thing suddenly righted itself and swung forward as if on hinges.

Harry found himself looking into a large, dark chamber whose walls and ceiling were hidden beneath a soft mist. He followed the postmaster inside, into a cool and slightly eerie environment where the air seemed surgically sterile. The floor was covered in sleek black tiles giving the impression of a carpet of glass beneath their feet. Harry walked along a row of high steel drawers that gave the distinct impression of safety deposit boxes. They stopped a short way along and the postmaster turned, light the oil in a lamp standing on a small desk and turned to Harry.

"Using this box is quite simple" he began. "There is a code on your card. Punch it into the panel on the box and it will open. Pop your letter or note inside and close the door. Then simply press the 'send' button and it is done. Do not forget to press the 'lock' button when you are all done. I shall leave you to your business. Quills and parchment can be found under the desk."

He turned on his heel and walked away. Harry sat down and looked at the box. It was unremarkable and looked like little more than an outline on the steel wall. If it wasn't for the control panel on the front Harry wouldn't have known it was a box at all. The panel itself looked like a very Muggle-like keypad with ten keys for the numbers, one each for 'open,' 'send,' and 'lock'. It all seemed very strange.

Harry groped beneath the desk and found a small drawer which, as he had been told, contained quills, parchment and several jars of ink. Taking what he needed Harry scribbled a quick note asking whoever received it if they could help him with his problem. After checking that it sounded polite enough he added that he could be contacted at Hogwarts and that a quick reply would be appreciated. Taking out the card again he noticed the six-digit code and typed it into the keypad. He pressed the open button; there was a loud hissing, much like the opening of a pressurised container, and the door swung open. The letter went inside, Harry closed the door and followed the instructions the postmaster gave to him. The door clicked shut but there was no other sound, leaving Harry to wonder if he had done everything right.

Back out in the post office, Harry thanked the postmaster and made his way back out into the village. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light of the morning, having spent a good fifteen minutes by the light of a dirty oil lamp. As he meandered back towards Hogwarts Harry noticed how empty it was here, how easy it would be to hide when there was no-one to spot you. It struck him how right Hermione was about the vulnerability of the castle, and how right he was about getting outside help to defend it.

By the time he reached the Entrance Hall the early risers amongst the students were making their way to breakfast. A few seventh year Ravenclaw's, one of which was Terry Boot, waved as they passed him but the rest reminded Harry of a bunch of beaverish Hermione-esque clones with their heads buried inside textbooks. The image gave Harry a pang of guilt; this is what Hermione should be like, would be like, if she'd never met him. She'd be like these people, studying for tests and homework and only vaguely worried about the threat of Voldemort which was a long way from the minds of these students. As it should be, Harry thought to himself.

It was a morose chain of thought that stayed with Harry until the girl herself joined him at the Gryffindor table.

"Bad dream or something?" Hermione asked, pulling a rack of toast towards her.

"What?" said Harry.

"Your face," said Hermione. "You look terrible. Something wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," he lied, looking past her eyes. "It's a horrible world, hardly the time to be jolly."

"That's the spirit," she teased.

"You seem a bit happy," said Harry. "You had some good news or something?"

"Or something," she smiled. "You aren't going to be a daddy just yet."

"Oh, sorry, I completely forgot," said Harry, ashamed. "But it's not going to happen."

"Nope," said Hermione smearing marmalade on her toast.

"You seem happy about that," said Harry. "Didn't like the idea, did you?"

"What has gotten into you this morning? You're like a goblin with a sore head. Of course I _like_ the idea but not now. That's way down the line. We have to have our own lives first. And, in any case, is this the kind of world you want to bring a child into?"

"No…no, you're right," said Harry. "Ignore me, I'm just being a prat. It just seems like there's nothing going right at the moment, its getting to me."

"I wouldn't say that," said Hermione. "You just have to look on the bright side."

"Which is?"

"Well," said Hermione, thinking hard. "You still have your health."

"Is that it?" smirked Harry.

"Pretty much," said Hermione, smirking back. "Oh come on, Harry, cheer up. Okay, it's mostly doom and gloom, but there's always hope. And if it all turns out badly we can join Moaning Myrtle in her bathroom. We can have a cubicle each."

Harry guffawed at Hermione's words. He looked up to see Ron enter the Great Hall and cross to them.

"Morning," he said brightly. "Ooh, pass me some crumpets, Hermione – I'm starving."

"Where've you been?" asked Harry. "You look shattered. I bet you haven't been to bed recently, have you?"

"What makes you say that?" asked Ron with his mouth full.

"The bags under your eyes are a giveaway," said Harry. "And besides, didn't you always say that being up this early is against your religion?"

"This is true," said Ron. "But I'm a busy boy now."

"Why's that?" asked Harry.

"Been going to work with Dad for the last couple of weeks," said Harry. "He's heading up a new task force dealing with Muggle protection. With You-Know-Who attacking as many of them as us the Ministry wants an active unit to deal with it. And because Dad is mad about Muggles he's been put in charge. It's quite exciting; I've been up all night for days following leads with Dad and the wizards working with him, even had a few skirmishes. I even met the Muggle Prime Minister – what a duffer he is."

Harry listened to Ron tell stories of his military like campaigns which always seemed to end with him narrowly avoiding an Avada Kedavra or the Muggle police.

"So how come you're up here?" asked Hermione.

"We've been in the North of England all night," said Ron. "Had a tip there was going to be an attack at a football match up there. You wouldn't believe how many fans were in the stadium. About fifty thousand – for football! The shame of it. I still don't get how you can like a sport with no broomsticks but they seem to love it. Anyway, nothing happened. Dunno whether we had been seen or if it was a dud warning. I just thought I'd come by and see Luna as I was in the area."

"Thanks," joked Harry.

"No, I didn't mean-"

"Sarcasm, Ron," said Harry quickly. "For future reference, that's what it sounds like."

"I'll try to remember!" said Ron sardonically. "Have you seen her anyway?"

"Who, Luna? Nah, sorry mate. Cant say I've been looking, though."

"Aww, how romantic," teased Ron. "Only got eyes for Hermione, eh?"

"I should hope so," said Hermione, whose head was half-hidden behind the Daily Prophet.

"Anyone died?" asked Ron with alarming casualness.

"Only your tact," said Hermione sniffily.

Ginny walked by and smiled at her brother, before it turned to a frown when she clocked Harry.

"Still not talking then?" asked Ron, nodding at Ginny.

"I think we've said all we have to say to each other," said Harry with an air of finality.

"So, anything exciting happened up here?" asked Ron. Harry told him about seeing Snape. Ron gasped and swore then swore some more. He swore again when Harry told him of Headmistress McGonagall's apparent disinterest. "Is she _mad_? Doing nothing! Why don't they just open the gates and let the slimy git walk in!"

"Well we've taken matters into our own hands," said Harry. Hermione coughed pointedly behind her paper. "Alright, I mean _I've_ taken the matter into _my _hands. Happy?"

"Yes, thanks," said Hermione.

"Why, what have you done?" asked Ron.

"I've sent a letter to Ryan, remember that guy we met in Egypt? I thought maybe he could help."

"Good idea," said Ron enthusiastically. "That'd be useful."

"See, Hermione," said Harry. "Ron thinks it's a good idea."

"Yes," Hermione replied with a sigh. "But Ron also thinks waterproof teabags are a good idea and that anyone whose nose is off centre should be sent to Azkaban for crimes against wizard-kind. Hardly a certificate of approval, is it?"

It took nearly two days for Harry to receive an answer. It was at breakfast on Thursday when a large, exotic bird (which even Hermione couldn't name) swooped in and dropped a note into Harry's lap before zooming out again. Harry ripped it open with indecent abandon and read the note, which was written in a very fine hand.

_Harry,_

_Nice to hear from you. I'm sorry to hear about your troubles and I think you are right to be worried about them. Your sworn enemy sneaking around at night is definitely cause for concern. Funnily enough I'm having a few troubles of my own. I've been called back home to solve some domestic dispute or another; it's lucky I got your letter at all. Unfortunately, by the time you receive this I will be back home and unable to come and help, though I would have in different circumstances. I have, however, convinced Enola to come along and give you a hand. She's very resourceful and will be of use to you. I hope this little something can aid you. I will try and fix the problems at home and then come and join her a.s.a.p. She should be arriving the same day as this letter._

_Good luck,_

_Ryan Powell._

_p.s. Take good care of my girl!_

Harry read the letter again and handed it to Hermione. She frowned as she read it and turned to Harry to castigate its writer as soon as she'd finished.

"I knew I was right not to like him," she said acidly. "Persuading that poor girl to come here and put herself in danger. Who does he think he is? And how mad is she for going along with it?"

"They're trying to help us," said Harry. "Which is more than can be said for the people we've asked so far. And besides, if I asked you to do something for me wouldn't you do it?"

"Not something like this, no," said Hermione. "If it was to help you in some way then yes, I probably would. But to help someone you barely know? Absolutely not. I'm your girlfriend, not your servant."

Harry couldn't help thinking she had a point. There was something very subordinate in the idea of Ryan simply ordering his girlfriend to do his bidding. Still, it was some help and Harry couldn't feel too guilty about it, especially if she was as good as Ryan had suggested.

"Someone's going to have to tell McGonagall," said Hermione briskly. "If this girl is arriving today she's going to need somewhere to sleep, food to eat, that sort of thing. I can't see McGonagall liking it."

"We'll go after breakfast," said Harry. "This Enola might turn up at any time and I think it should all be sorted by then."

"Excuse me but _we'll_ not do anything of the sort," said Hermione haughtily. "This is your plan, your mess. You sort it out."

"Fine," said Harry abruptly. He got up. "Thanks for your support."

Then he stormed off leaving Hermione totally nonplussed.

Being in a bad mood was, perhaps, not the best way to present Professor McGonagall with the news of the impending new arrival. However, Harry thought to himself on the way to her office, if she proved stubborn he would at least be able to meet her disproval with ferocious arguments of his own. There was, unfortunately, a niggling voice at the back of his mind telling him that this wasn't going to be easy; it was the voice which tended to speak to him through any bad mood when Hermione's words were right. On this occasion, though, the sound of her voice served only to infuriate him further still.

Professor McGonagall was marking papers when Harry entered her office. She surveyed him over the rim of her glasses, piercing him with her stern stare and reading his intentions as she so often did. She put her quill to one side, sat firmly back in her chair and folded her arms, then beckoned Harry to start. The futility of the plan soon became apparent; his words bounced off the stern exterior and caused the creases of a frown to form at the corner of Professor McGonagall's mouth. She was not pleased.

"How dare you," she said when Harry and finished. "How dare you invite some strange person to my school with so much as consulting me first?"

"I knew you wouldn't go for it," said Harry.

"Too right I wouldn't!" cried McGonagall. "And I wont now. As soon as this girl gets here you can march her straight back out."

"But Professor -"

"But Professor, nothing!" said McGonagall. "All the promise and potential in the world doesn't allow such gross arrogance. She could be anybody, do anything. Do you realise the dangers of this?"

"She isn't dangerous," Harry protested. "I've met her before. She's coming here to help. I told you -"

"You've told me some vague tale that I have half a mind to disregard," said McGonagall. "I've no reason to believe that the brother of Sirius Black is alive and well and I've never even heard of this secret group."

"I have," said a soft voice from the wall. Professor McGonagall's shouting had woken the portraits on the wall, all of whom were eagerly eavesdropping on the conversation. All except the one of Dumbledore, who was addressing McGonagall directly.

"Albus," said McGonagall, her tone changing immediately. "Do you mean Harry is telling some truth?"

"That I cannot know, my dear Minerva," said Dumbledore. "What I do know is that this group exists, under many names and guises, and that, yes, Regulus Black was known to be under their protection."

"Even so," said McGonagall. "I cannot allow this to take place. Some foreign girl to enter Hogwarts. It's improper."

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore. "But you really do have little to lose from it all. Any extra help, I would have thought, would be more than welcome. And if Harry vouches for her, that really should be enough."

Harry smiled at Dumbledore's portrait and swore he got a tiny wink back. It happened so quickly, though, that it might have been a trick of the light.

"What do you intend to do with her?" demanded McGonagall, wheeling round to Harry. "Where will she sleep? What will she do?"

"There's space in the girls' dormitory," said Harry. "She could stay there. As for what she's going to do, I don't know. I'll work that out when she gets here."

"If I permit this," said McGonagall. "Which I am extremely uncomfortable even with the thought of, then it is your responsibility. I want no part of it. If anything happens to this girl then it will be on your head. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely," said Harry. "It'll work, I know it will."

"It had better," said McGonagall. "Because if she turns out to be a spy for the Dark side and Hogwarts is compromised I will hold you personally responsible. The safety of this school and its students is now as much in your hands as it is mine. Remember that."

Harry thanked Professor McGonagall and hurried from the room. Outside he could hear a quiet argument going on between the Headmistress and the portraits in the room. Harry walked quickly away before McGonagall's stubbornness caused a change of heart.

It was early afternoon when the new arrival turned up at Hogwarts. Harry, who had been hiding out with Hagrid to avoid meeting Hermione around the school, looked up from making a fourth cup of tea to see a girl waiting at the school gates out of Hagrid's window. He put down the teapot and beckoned Hagrid to come with him to open the gates, which were permanently locked. They made their way up the gravel path and let Enola enter the grounds.

"Hello," said Harry. "I'm really glad you were able to come."

"Oh, it's nothing," said Enola. "I hope I'm able to help you."

"This is Hagrid," said Harry doing the introductions. "Hagrid, meet Enola. I am pronouncing that right, aren't I?'

Enola nodded as Hagrid shook her whole arm with his hand. In the daylight Harry noticed how very pretty this girl was. The darkness of the Egyptian tombs had hardly done her credit. Shiny black hair fell in waves just past her shoulders framing her face and her eyes were a cool green with an arresting gaze. Harry had to blink to stop himself feeling captivated.

But she looked different in other ways. For a start she came across as far less confident than Harry remembered her being in Egypt. In fact, with the way she was looking around uncertainly and fidgeting with her feet, Harry would have said she looked positively timid. His confidence in his plan waned a little.

"Are you alright?" asked Harry.

"Oh, yes," said Enola. "Just getting my bearings, that's all."

"Why don' you come and have a brew with us," suggested Hagrid. "Harry was jus' about to put on another pot."

"Yes, thanks, that'd be nice," said Enola, genuinely beaming.

Hagrid led them back to his hut and set Harry to task getting tea ready whilst trying to reassure Enola that Fang was harmless when the giant boarhound pounced on the girl and started to lick her ear. Harry thought she might be appalled by the slobbering dog; she seemed so pristine and well presented that Harry thought she may have taken badly to her image being tarnished. He was quite relieved to find her quite the reverse and in no time at all she was scratching Fang behind the ears as he drooled over her skirt.

"So," said Hagrid, pouring the tea. "How was yer trip? Sugar?"

"Two, please," said Enola. "My trip was fine, nothing exciting, but then its over so quickly there's hardly time for sight seeing, don't you think?"

"Did you Apparate here then?" asked Harry.

"Apparate? What's that?"

"Oh, you know, disappearing in one place and turning up somewhere else," said Harry.

"That sounds a bit random," said Enola.

"Oh no," said Harry, correcting himself. "You know where you're going to end up. You just sort of think it and then, if you do it right, there you are. It's called Apparition."

"That's some kind of ghost, isn't it?" asked Enola. "It sounds a bit like what we do, but we call it self-teleportation. You use your wand to send you wherever you like. As long as you do the spell right whilst thinking of the place you're going it always works. It has to be idiot-proof 'cause there are some right plonkers where I come from."

"How come you have two wands?" asked Harry. "I've been dying to ask."

"Oh these," said Enola, beaming as she withdrew two slim, ice-white wands from holsters in her belt. "I've had them since I was little. I think they're made from beech or pine but I painted them myself. I used to have little gold stars on them too but I got rid of them when I became a teenager."

She looked remorseful at this tale. Harry pressed again. "But why two?"

"Trust me, Harry, where I come from, and the things I've been part of, you need your wits about you. Sometimes you have to be able to do a few things at once."

"So, you can cast two spells at a time?" asked Harry, sounding impressed.

"Yes," said Enola modestly. "It took me ages to learn how, and it wasn't until Ryan showed me the best way to do it that I was able to. Funny really, I taught him the basics of magic and when he got better than me he taught me more complex things."

"What? You mean he isn't from a wizard family?"

"I don't think our world works like yours," Enola began. "Ryan's parents were both magic; in fact, they were leaders on opposite sides during a civil war years ago. But he was actually raised in this country. In Wales, do you know it?"

"I know Wales quite well, meself," said Hagrid. "Got a good friend down there, Rhiannon of Rhydyfelin s'her name. Clever card player, bled me dry one time…"

"I went there for a holiday with my aunt and uncle one year," said Harry. "It looked very pretty, but I was kept locked in the car for most of the trip. My parents lived there for a while; they're buried in the garden of their old house."

"Oh… I'm sorry," said Enola, looking aghast. "I had no idea. I'm sorry to have brought it up."

"Its fine, its fine," said Harry quickly as Enola looked on the verge of tears. "How were you to know? Besides, I'm okay with it. It happened a long time ago and I don't even remember it. Don't worry about it."

"I'm really sorry anyway," said Enola. "This was what I was afraid of. Saying the wrong things in front of people. I could say anything and upset someone. I promised myself I'd stay quiet, which is hard for me as I hardly ever shut up normally."

"Then don't change on account of us," said Harry, grinning. "It'd be nice to have someone around here to lighten the mood."

"True, true," agreed Hagrid. "It's been a bit bleak lately, ain't no lie in that."

Enola grinned meekly, still unconvinced. But she relaxed more as tea went on, listening to Harry and Hagrid tell tales and give her a quick overview of the state of things. Harry thought she made an excellent audience, gasping and praising in all the right places. By the time they were all done Enola was fully convinced that she was needed.

"I had no idea things were this bad," she said. "Working for the Faction we're kind of cocooned. We only had a vague idea of what was happening in the outside world. I'd say you can use all the help you can get."

"Well, Ryan highly recommended you in his letter," said Harry. "Said you would be really useful to us."

"He did?" said Enola, glowing and blushing all at once. "He's so sweet. But I think he's right. I can go places where you might not be able to, you, know, because no-one knows me, I won't attract attention."

"I'm not sure that's right," said Harry. "Voldemort and his mates kill anyone – Muggle, Magic, beast – if you get in his way he'll kill you all the same"

"Something to look forward to then," joked Enola.

By this time it was starting to grow dusky outside. Harry was just about to get up and take Enola to the castle when there was a knock on Hagrid's door.

"Ah, hello, Hermione," said Hagrid as he opened the door. "Come on in."

"I thought you might be hiding out in here," said Hermione to Harry as soon as she entered the cabin.

"I am not hiding out," Harry protested.

"Well, you were a little bit, Harry," said Hagrid smirking through his beard. Harry gave him a stinging look by way of thanks.

"Hello," said Hermione, turning to Enola. "We never really met properly. I'm Hermione."

"Nice to meet you," said Enola, who seemed wary of Hermione's brisk manner.

"Have you had anything to eat?" Hermione asked.

"Not since I left this morning," replied Enola.

"You poor thing," said Hermione gently. She turned to Harry and her tone hardened again. "Not very good at hosting guests, are you?"

"We've had some tea," said Harry meekly. "And I was just about to bring Enola up to the school."

"At least you're thinking in the right way," said Hermione shaking her head. "Make yourself useful and take Enola's bags for her."

"Oh no, I can carry them," said Enola lifting the bags herself. "See?"

"No its fine, I'll take them," said Harry. "You are a guest after all."

Harry took the bags from Enola, which turned out to be rather heavy.

"What's in these?" Harry asked. "They weigh a ton."

"Equipment, provisions, clothes," said Enola. "A little bit of everything."

"I think I might summon Dobby here," said Harry. "Make him do it."

"You will do no such thing," said Hermione sternly. "They are enslaved enough here without doing your bidding as well. Just stop moaning and do as you're told."

Enola seemed to stifle a giggle as Harry obeyed his orders. He walked solemnly behind the two girls as they talked about things; Harry, Enola's trip, the security of Hogwarts, Harry, dinner, the weather and Harry were just a few of the topics they covered. Once they reached the Entrance Hall Hermione took out her wand and guided Enola's heavy bags up the stairs.

"You did that on purpose," Harry fumed. "You knew I forgot that spell and you let me slave all the way up from Hagrid's."

"I thought you needed to be taught a lesson," said Hermione. "Stop jumping down my throat every time I disagree with you. I'm not one of your fan girls', Harry. If you want worship and obedience you'd have been better off staying with Ginny."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. "I do not want worship. I never asked for that. You know that."

"Of course I know it," said Hermione. "But the way your head's been getting lately I've been starting to wonder if you aren't believing your own hype."

"How can you say that to me?"

"I can say that because I'm supposed to be your girlfriend and we're not supposed to have any barriers between us and we're supposed to listen to each other."

"What's with all the 'supposed to' stuff?" said Harry.

"Well I haven't exactly been feeling the love lately, Harry," said Hermione.

"Sorry but I've been a bit distracted," said Harry bluntly. "What with Snape turning up, McGonagall turning the other cheek and you telling me you might be pregnant I've been a little pressed for time."

"If we can't make time for each other then what the hell are we even fighting this war for?" said Hermione. Not for the first time, Harry realised she was right.

"You're right, of course," said Harry. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. Its just that'd I'd like you to support me when I need you; stop me if I'm definitely doing wrong, or show me the bad side of things, but support me all the same. This is a partnership, you know."

"Eihwaz," said Hermione.

"Bless you," said Harry.

"No, silly, eihwaz is an ancient rune. Means partnership. I got it confused in my OWL, remember?"

"Er – no," said Harry. "I always thought ancient runes were derelict old cities where people went to dig for treasure."

"Why does that not surprise me," said Hermione, smirking and shaking her head again. "Come on, let's get this into the dorms and get back down to Enola. She'll wonder where we've got to."

With a little bit more magic from Hermione the bags were stowed away quickly and she and Harry rejoined Enola in the Entrance Hall. They found her talking to the portrait of Dionysus the Dishonest on the third step of the staircase.

"I wouldn't listen to a word she says," said Hermione ushering Enola away. "Just full of lies that one."

They entered the Great Hall where dinner was already underway. They took seats at the Gryffindor table facing away from the other students as to not attract attention. They filled their plates and began eating as the talk turned to Enola.

"So," Hermione began. "Where exactly is it that you come from?"

"It's a hidden place," said Enola. "I suppose this school has all kinds of enchantments on it to keep it secure? Well, my home is sort of the same. It's a continent, way out to sea. Boats, planes, they just don't see it at all."

"And people live there? Like, normal people? How did they get there if they can't see it?" asked Harry.

"It was colonised thousands of years ago," Enola explained. "There were people living there, we call them the Indies, but other people went there too. They were the ones that hid it."

"Who were they?" Hermione asked.

"I'm descended from a great race of people, the Atlanteans. My ancestors' home was destroyed by a bunch of natural disasters. Most of the ones who survived settled on the new island continent where I come from. But there were also refugees and settlers from Sparta when that was destroyed, Troy when that went, loads of places. But the first ones there were Celts, hence its name – Celticania. They founded the cities and most of the language, religions, culture has something to do with them."

"But Ryan, you said, didn't come from there?" said Hermione.

"No," said Enola. "He was born in Wales but his mother is Celticanian. I think she was Atlantean by descent, not too sure. His father was Spartan, though, and those two really don't mix. All our wars have been between those two sides."

"So what's Ryan doing now? He said something about domestic problems," said Harry.

"You have to understand that Ryan is like a leader there," said Enola. "He's descended from kings but that wasn't the way to go for him. He had to get use of the White Power, sort of the opposite of Black magic only harder to learn and much more powerful. The only way to do it was to become High Priest of the White Temple, a huge pyramid in our Capital city. He did that, ended the war and put Dylan in charge as a kind of Viceroy, but he rules really. He co-regents with a priestess called Hannah."

At this point her expression saddened and Harry couldn't help feel that she didn't like this other girl. Hermione seemed to be on the same wavelength.

"Doesn't sound like you think much of that?" she said.

"Oh, it doesn't? Well, I know Hannah well, fighting alongside someone in a war does that, but they are a bit close. If I didn't know Ryan so well…"

She drifted off and looked sadder than ever.

"I'm sorry," said Harry suddenly. "This is my fault. I should never have asked Ryan for help; I didn't know you had so much going on. If I hadn't contacted him you would never have had to come here."

"Oh don't worry about that," said Enola brightly. "It's just that, well…I miss him, you know?"

Harry looked at Hermione and she looked right back. They both smiled. Neither of them needed to answer the question.

"Cant you contact him? Send a message?" asked Hermione.

"No, unfortunately," said Enola. "See, the continent is slightly off dimension and you need a powerful force to break through the quantum membrane. We have a ship, the HMS Harmony, that was designed specifically for that. But it's the only way in or out. But don't worry about me, I'll be fine. And in any case, Ryan will fix whatever problems are back home and be here in no time."

And it was a good thing too, thought Harry, for a commotion had just erupted on the other side of the hall. Harry looked up and saw a vision of horror; there, collapsing in front of the High Table was Malfoy, a jagged cut right down his face, his blonde hair coated with blood.


	18. Out of Body, Out of Mind

Chapter 18 – Out of Body, Out of Mind

The next hour was spent pacing around the hospital wing. Harry had helped to carry Malfoy from the Great Hall, while Hermione sprinted on ahead to tell Madame Pomfrey of the impending arrival. A Healer was immediately summoned from St. Mungo's and though between them they managed to stem the bleeding, Malfoy remained unconscious and unresponsive.

The part of Harry that greatly disliked Draco Malfoy thought this new state suited him rather well and that, given time, Harry could even grow to get on with this form of him. This nasty thought was tempered by the sight of two great scars which spanned Malfoy's face; one ran from his forehead across his right eye, the other down the entire left side of his face. Professor McGonagall, Harry was glad to see, was visibly shaken by the whole incident. Pale and concerned, the Headmistress sat in pensive silence watching Malfoy being tended to. After an hour, during which no-one said much, Madame Pomfrey left the St. Mungo's Healer to work alone.

"What is it, Poppy?" asked Professor McGonagall as the Nurse walked over. "Do you know what has happened to the boy?"

"I'm afraid not, Minerva," said Madame Pomfrey, glancing back towards Malfoy's sedate form. "I'd guess its some sort of curse but I've never seen anything like that before. Nothing that either I, or Healer Pye, has tried has been able to revive him. He is, at least, stable."

Professor McGonagall thanked Madame Pomfrey and she left for her office. Harry seized on the chance to speak and turned to face the Headmistress.

"What do you think now?" he asked forcefully. "Is that enough proof for you?"

"Proof of what, Potter?"

"That the school is not safe, that it's under some sort of stealth attack."

"Stealth attack?" McGonagall exclaimed. "I suppose you think this has something to do with Severus Snape?"

"Of course it is!" said Harry, his voice rising. "How could it not be? He turns up in the middle of the night, next thing is someone gets attacked. I know maths isn't taught here but I think we can all add 2 and 2."

"You think that Severus Snape has managed to break into Hogwarts?" asked McGonagall. "And that he has attacked one of the students? A favourite member of his old house lets not forget."

"Like Snape sets store by anyone," said Harry acidly. "He'd kill his own shadow if it would get him somewhere."

"And can you explain how he managed to enter the school?" asked McGonagall.

"He must have found a way to break through the enchantments," said Harry. "Sirius did it once. The place isn't impervious. That's why we need extra security."

"Speaking of security," said McGonagall. "Where is yours? Why didn't she prevent this attack?"

"She's only just got here!" said Harry hotly. "There was no way she could have prevented this. Where is Enola anyway?"

"Over by Malfoy," said Hermione nodding to the far end of the ward.

Harry got up and moved along the ward. Hermione joined him, trotting to keep close. Harry had noticed this over the past hour; the attack on Malfoy seemed to have wrought a change in Hermione's behaviour and she appeared to be sticking close to Harry as though afraid for herself – or for them both.

Enola was peering over Malfoy from the right side, whilst Healer Pye examined him from the left. The two of them were whispering to each other across the bed but stopped as Harry and Hermione approached.

"What are you doing?" asked Harry.

"Just having a look at him," said Enola. "They don't know what the matter with him is so I thought I'd offer to help."

"Do you know anything about Healing then?" asked Hermione.

"A little," said Enola, shyly. "I'm not too great at the fixing bit but I can diagnose pretty well. I would try and help here but this guy doesn't want to let me have a go."

"As I explained, young lady," said Healer Pye, "I am not aware of any qualifications you have or any other expertise that would permit me to let you tamper with my patient."

"Tamper with him!" said Enola hotly. "I'm not going to tamper with him, I just want to find out what his wound is."

"And you intend to do this through some sort of telepathy, you say?" said Pye churlishly.

"Yeah, cerebral scanning," said Enola simply. Pye appeared to stifle a cough.

"Is that dangerous?" asked Harry.

"Oh no," said Enola brightly. "There's no contact involved. It's more like connecting my mind to his body to find out what's wrong."

"It can't hurt to let her try, can it?" Hermione asked Pye. "What is there to lose?"

"I don't believe you are giving the orders around here, miss," said Pye.

"And I don't believe you have any choice in the matter," said Harry stepping forward and drawing himself up. "Now step aside."

Pye moved away from the bed muttering something about not being able to work in such conditions. Harry, who had half a mind on cursing him for his rudeness, beckoned Enola to conduct the procedure she had spoken about. After expecting something flashy and mystical, Harry felt rather disappointed at the whole thing. Enola simply moved around the bed passing her hands a few inches over the spot where Malfoy was injured. Eyes closed and sounding like she was humming to herself, Enola worked for several minutes until she abruptly stopped and announced her findings.

"Whatever caused this, it wasn't magic," she said. Even Pye perked up at this.

"How can you be sure?" asked Harry.

"I can sense some sort of foreign substance in the wound, a toxin of some kind."

"A toxin?" said Hermione looking, herself, at Malfoy's injuries. "Can you guess what kind?"

"I'd say it was organic," Enola replied. "I don't know – maybe venom."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, the same expression on their faces.

"C-could it be from-" Hermione began slowly, "-from a snake?"

"Quite possibly," said Enola, before adding seriously, "but you shouldn't really keep snakes in a school. It's highly irresponsible."

"We _don't_ keep snakes," said Hermione.

"But we know someone who does," Harry added darkly.

"In that case," said Enola. "I can help you find out if it was a snake bite."

"And how's that?" asked Harry.

"Shamanistic technique," said Enola. "I can go into a sort of trance and relive what happened. But I can't do it by myself."

"Now that does sound dangerous," said Hermione looking worried. "What do you think, Harry?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "Is it dangerous, Enola?"

"Not if it's done properly," said Enola assuredly. "And I've done it loads of times. Come on, let's go somewhere empty and I'll tell you what do to."

"I don't think you will do anything of the kind," said Professor McGonagall, who nobody had noticed coming up to them. "What did I tell you about risking the safety of any student?"

"And don't you remember what you said about Enola being my responsibility?" Harry replied. "And anyway, she isn't a student."

"Don't be flippant, Potter," said McGonagall.

"I don't think you should get involved, Professor," said Hermione. Her tone was so curt it caught both Harry and McGonagall by surprise. "This is Harry's concern and if he wants to take Enola up on her offer he shouldn't have to run it by you."

"If the girl wants to risk her health, that's up to her," said McGonagall. "But in my school? You'd do well to remember where you are, Miss Granger?"

"But you did offer Hogwarts to us," said Hermione. "For mutually beneficial purposes, I remember you saying. It's hardly worth it if Harry has to check with you if every little thing he does is allowed. He should be allowed to act independently or we will get nowhere."

Harry had never heard Hermione talk to a teacher like this before. It was almost shocking but it had the desired effect as Professor McGonagall merely nodded mutely and allowed them to leave.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked Hermione quietly as they walked along the corridor.

"What?" answered Hermione innocently.

"All that with McGonagall," said Harry. "I've never seen you like that before."

"Oh that," said Hermione. "She's just annoying me over all this. Turning a blind eye when it's obvious and right before her eyes. I'm sick of her not taking you seriously. You're totally right about what's going on, and it's not the first time you've seen things others don't. I'm guilty of not believing you as well and I'm sorry for that."

"Don't they call that projection or something?" said Harry. "Taking out your own bad feelings on someone else."

"I know, but she did deserve it," said Hermione with a slight grin. "Besides, when you're right, you're right. And you've got it spot on this time. I was wrong to say you shouldn't have sought outside help and wrong to doubt Enola. I think she could be a real use to us."

"What do you think this thing is she's going to do?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, whispering so that Enola wouldn't hear behind. "But it sounds a bit mad to me."

Harry had to agree. He had no idea what a Shamanistic technique might involve but the thought of going into a trance to see the past sounded both bizarre and far-fetched. He was, however, open to all possibilities and as he led Enola and Hermione into an empty classroom his eagerness to get a clearer picture of what happened to Malfoy overrode any niggling doubts he had lingering in the back of his mind.

Enola stood at the centre of the room and drew both her wands. With a casual flick of both all of the desks and chairs flew to the edge of the room while at the same time a squashy recliner chair materialised at Enola's side. Harry and Hermione swapped impressed looks as Enola settled herself down.

"Right, this is how it works," she said. "I'm going to start some breathing exercises. When I start breathing quickly and irregularly that's where you come in."

"Are you talking about hyperventilating?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, exactly," replied Enola, happy that Hermione had cottoned on so quickly.

"But that is really dangerous," said Hermione anxiously. "Why do you need to do it?"

"Oxygen deprivation," explained Enola. "It reduces the brain to its basic functions and allows me to access the trance state. Trust me, its safe. I've done this so much and nothing's ever happened to me. Well, I'm a bit mad but nothing else."

Enola flashed them both her arresting and assuring smile. As if by some unseen magic they both dropped their worries.

"Okay," said Hermione. "What do we need to do?"

"When my breathing goes funny I'll be half way between this world and the astral world. I need some grounding so I need you to say my name. You'll know I can hear you when I answer. It probably won't be speech, more like mumbling or grunting."

"Then what?" asked Harry.

"Then one of you has to say something like, 'now you are leaving this world' and count backwards slowly from ten. Once that is done I will be under and my perception will be clear and in that world. I will tell you what I can see and what's happening. The most important part comes after that. When you've heard everything you must lead me back here and reverse the process, beckoning me back to this world. Count up from ten until I come back. I have to be sitting here, though; anything else and my mind will go funny. I have to be exactly where I am. Understand?"

Hermione nodded in a business-like way. Harry felt as though his own mind might have gone funny just from listening to the description Enola offered. But before he could dwell on having his mind one place and his body somewhere else, Enola had begun. At first, it was all quite normal; she was breathing deeply as if falling asleep. After a few minutes, however, he breathing changed. Each breath grew shorter, sharper, as though she were running very fast or climbing a high mountain.

"When will we know to speak?" asked Harry quietly into Hermione's ear.

"I don't think it's yet," Hermione whispered back. "Her breathing is still normal, it has to be erratic for proper hyperventilation. Ooh, a bit like that."

Sure enough, Enola's breathing had changed yet again. Gone were the short breaths, evenly spaced, replaced by various gasps of differing length and frequency. She also seemed in some distress and for the first time, Harry felt worried.

"Enola," said Hermione in a clear, but forced voice. "Can you hear me?"

The convulsing form of Enola made some bizarre grunting noise.

"O-okay," Hermione continued unsurely. "You are going to leave this world now. I'm going to count down from ten and when I'm done you will be in another place."

Enola grunted again. Hermione took this as confirmation that she was doing her part right and with renewed confidence began the countdown.

"Alright, here we go. Ten – nine- eight- seven – six-"

Harry watched as Hermione made the slow countdown, his anxiety growing as Enola's state seemed to get worse with each number until eventually she seemed on the verge of tearing herself apart. As Hermione reached zero, though, everything stopped. Harry watched in amazement as Enola righted herself in a split second until she was sitting there calm and relaxed, her eyes closed as if in a deep sleep.

"Enola?" said Hermione. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," Enola replied. Her voice was distant and dreamy and Harry was reminded strongly of Luna Lovegood.

"Um – where are you?" said Hermione.

"Where would you like me to be?" said Enola.

"We need you to go back a couple of hours," said Harry. "We need you to find someone called Draco Malfoy."

"Come with me," said Enola dreamily. She got up and walked towards the door, which Harry opened quickly before she walked into it. She led Harry and Hermione back along the corridor and down one of the back staircases and out into the courtyard. There she stopped abruptly, causing Hermione to do the same. Harry, who was too busy wondering where this was going, didn't notice and walked straight into Hermione as she stopped.

"Steady on," she said with a mischievous grin. "Try and keep it decent, Harry. Someone might see."

Harry, whose mind was now in the gutter with Hermione's, watched Enola walk out into the courtyard and lean against the fountain at the centre.

"This is weird," said Enola, who was now sounding so much like Luna that Harry found it distracting. "I feel funny. I'm moving around in an odd way - speeding up, slowing down, turning. I'm trying to catch something in front of me. Like a little walnut with wings."

"The Snitch," Harry whispered to Hermione.

"So Malfoy must have been playing Quidditch…on his own," she replied. There was a trace of pity in her voice that even made Harry feel sorry for Malfoy for a second.

"I'm falling," Enola continued. "I'm coming close to this courtyard. Now I'm stable again, standing just over there."

She pointed across the courtyard to a shed where the school brooms were kept.

"Oh, my hairs just stood up on the back of my neck," said Enola sharply. "I'm anxious. Someone's watching me. Where are they?"

"Can you move about?" Harry called.

"I'm walking around the fountain, one hand inside my jacket," said Enola. "There's someone here, I know it."

"So she must actually _be_ Malfoy," Hermione breathed into Harry's ear.

"What a horrible thought," Harry added.

"I can hear you! I can hear your feet! Come out you coward!" called Enola. Disturbingly, she had actually taken on Malfoy's voice. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

"That doesn't sound right," said Hermione. "If it was someone who was about to attack him he wouldn't be talking to them like that."

Enola was speaking again. "I was just flying, not that it's any of your business."

"He's obviously in conversation but we can only hear his bits," said Harry. They watched for a while as Enola talked inanely to her invisible companion but she never mentioned a name so it was impossible to tell who the other person might be. Besides, Harry thought, Malfoy talks the same way to everyone so the list of possibilities was vast.

Suddenly, Enola shot into a crouching position and drew one of her wands, pointing it around the courtyard.

"Did you hear that, too?" she asked the invisible friend. "You did? Good. That means I'm not going – AARRRGGGHHH!"

Enola fell hard to the ground clutching her face, screaming in agony so real that Harry could almost feel it himself. He took off with Hermione on his heels and they tried to calm Enola. But they couldn't get through to her. She was still in her astral world, as she called it. The screaming and tears pouring down her face were causing Harry to panic.

"What do we do?" he called to Hermione.

"We have to get her back upstairs," she replied. "Can you carry her? It'll be quicker than using magic."

With Hermione's help Harry managed to lift Enola, kicking and screaming, onto his shoulder. It was a good thing she was so dainty, Harry thought as he carried her up the stairs and back into the empty classroom where this had all began. He dropped her rather unceremoniously back into her squashy recliner and Hermione, panting from running, closed the door.

"Enola! I want you to come back to us now, come back to this world," Hermione cried.

"It burns, it burns," Enola sobbed, in her own voice now, the sound of which made Harry so guilty he felt himself welling up. "Please make it stop."

"It will, just do as I say," said Hermione gently. Enola nodded meekly. "I'm going to count up to ten and when I reach ten you will be back with us, okay? Here goes – one –two-"

The effect was instant. Enola stopped crying at two and by the time Hermione had reached six the erratic breathing was back. At nine she was breathing normally again, though it was a few seconds after ten that she actually opened her eyes again.

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione hesitantly.

"Oh yes," said Enola who sounded perfectly chirpy, if a little groggy. "Bit fuzzy but I'll be okay. Oh dear!"

She tried to stand up but collapsed, laughing, back into her chair.

"I think I'll give it a minute," she said. "So, did you find out anything useful?"

"What?" said Harry. "You mean you don't remember anything?"

"Oh no," said Enola brightly. "I never remember it, that's why you have to have someone there, isn't it? Otherwise it'd be a bit pointless, don't you think?"

"We did learn that there was someone else there," said Harry. "But you didn't identify them.

"That could be for lots of reasons," said Enola. "Could be that their feelings are mixed up on the person – you know, not sure if they like them or not – or it could be someone you are afraid of. Emotional responses can distort the images in astral travelling. Sorry to be rude, but, do you have somewhere I can lie down, only it's quite late and that took a lot out of me."

"Of course, you must be exhausted," said Hermione. "Come on, we've put your things up in the girls dormitory. You can sleep there whilst you are with us."

The three of them walked quietly up to Gryffindor tower. The shadows cast by the torches alight in the corridor revealed how late it truly was. Once in the common room Harry slumped into a chair by the window as Hermione showed Enola up to the dormitories. She returned a few minutes later and sat down next to Harry, looking quite as thoughtful as he felt.

"Well, that was, er, interesting," said Harry. "What did you make of it?"

"It was disturbing," said Hermione. "And I'm not wholly convinced it was safe. I don't know how they do things in this Celticania – or whatever she called it – but I'm glad we aren't like that here. It was frightening."

"At least we know there was someone there when Malfoy was attacked," said Harry. "If we can find out who it was then maybe they can tell us if it was a snake that did it."

"I can't see us being able to do that easily," said Hermione. "Malfoy doesn't like anyone so it could have been any of the students he was talking to."

"I know that," said Harry. "It's a shame we can't be there ourselves, rather than looking through someone else's eyes."

Hermione's eyes suddenly shot open wide. "Harry – I've got an idea."

"What?"

"I'm not sure, it might be difficult to get hold of," she said, mostly to herself. "Just meet me here at ten in the morning and I'll tell you then. Oh – and bring your Invisibility Cloak."

With that she gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek and bounded upstairs leaving Harry wondering if she was going a bit mental.


	19. The Last Twelve Hours

Author note: This isn't much but as I've had nothing out for ages I thought I'd put this up. It was supposed to be the first half of a chapter but I'm not sure what's going into the other half so I'll leave that for next time.

Chapter 19 – The last Twelve Hours.

Harry met Hermione at ten o'clock. It was a cold morning and Harry had been unable to rouse himself from bed any earlier. Hermione was sat by the fire looking furtive when Harry entered the common room. It was sparsely populated bar the handful of fifth year students playing gobstones over by the window. Harry made his way over to Hermione anxious to hear her plan, wondering of it was likely to be as dangerous and difficult as she'd promised it to be the night before.

"Morning," he said, sitting down. "Where's Enola? Still in bed?"

"She's outside doing her exercises," said Hermione, motioning to the window. "Strange things if you ask me."

Harry got up and looked outside. Sure enough there was Enola, perched on the frosty ground near the lake twirling her wands like some sort of musical conductor, occasionally sending sparks flying into the glass-like surface of the water.

"So, do you want to hear my plan?" asked Hermione quietly as Harry sat back down.

"Eager, aren't you?"

"Well, we don't have much time," said Hermione. "Actually, ironically enough…"

Harry had a brief moment where he realised what Hermione's plan might be before she herself confirmed it by pulling down the neck of her robes to show the long golden chain and the unmistakable hourglass of a Time-Turner.

"Hermione – where did you get that?" Harry breathed.

"I, er, sort of, borrowed it," said Hermione guiltily. "I'll get it back as soon as we're done. And don't look like that, Harry – you want to find out what attacked Malfoy, don't you?"

"Of course, but I assume you got that from McGonagall and if she finds its missing and thinks we're meddling in her affairs again -"

"Then lets get it over with before she can find out."

Hermione jumped up, grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him across the Common Room and out of the portrait hole. They stopped in an empty corridor not far from the courtyard and Hermione pulled out the Time-Turner, throwing the long chain around Harry's neck.

"I think about twelve turns should do it," said Hermione.

"Er, Hermione," said Harry, struck by a sudden thought. "Are we going to have to relive the whole last twelve hours?"

"Um, yes, probably," said Hermione candidly. "I don't think it's safe to use it going forward. We'll just have to find something to do for eleven hours."

"Your mind is getting filthier by the day," said Harry with a smirk. "Just turn the thing."

Twelve times Hermione spun the tiny hourglass and Harry watched as time span backwards in front of his eyes. When all the different kinds of spinning had stopped Harry and Hermione made their way along the corridor but they hadn't gone more than a dozen feet before Hermione grabbed Harry and thrust him into a nearby broom cupboard, shutting the door behind them.

"Do you have to do this every time you go back in time?" Harry asked crossly, rubbing his head where it had smashed into the back of the cupboard.

"No," said Hermione briskly. "But we must make sure we aren't seen. Take out your Invisibility Cloak. I forgot you'd brought it with you."

"What will it matter if people see us?" asked Harry getting the cloak out. "They'll just think it's the real us, won't they?"

"Maybe. But what if they've just seen us somewhere else? Or what if we see ourselves? Do you remember where you were twelve hours ago because I don't. Right, are you covered? I can't see in the dark."

"You need to eat more carrots then," said Harry.

"Ho ho, very funny," said Hermione. "Come on, the coast's clear."

With some difficulty they edged out of the cupboard and made their way towards the courtyard. They stopped in a secluded corner and sat down to wait, hoping that they weren't interrupted by anyone else. It was several minutes before Harry spotted something in the sky. A blurry, blonde-haired something twisting and shooting through the air. Malfoy was swooping lower now, almost level with the top of the clock tower. Another circle of the courtyard and he landed gently on the far side of the fountain and stowed his broom safely away.

Just like in Enola's vision Malfoy suddenly span around, eyes darting around the place. The stalked towards the fountain gripping his wand inside his jacket, calling out for the person he was sure was watching him.

"Oh, it's you," said Malfoy. "What do you want?"

"Nice to see you too, Draco," said a voice which made Harry and Hermione spin round to see. It was Ginny. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing."

"I was just flying, not that it's any of your business," said Malfoy. "I thought I told you yesterday to leave me alone."

"You didn't mean that," said Ginny moving towards the fountain herself."

"I did."

"Really? That's why you kissed me back, was it?"

Harry barely had time to register the shock of what Ginny had said when both she and Malfoy shot to the ground.

"Did you hear that, too?" asked Malfoy quietly. "You did? Good. That means I'm not going – AARRRGGGHHH!"

A snake, bigger than Harry thought was possible, was rearing up, spitting angrily and snapping at every part of Malfoy exposed to the air. He was writhing in agony, blood spilling from deep cuts to his face and hands. Suddenly there was a loud crack and a swarm of bees shot towards the snake from Ginny's direction. The snake recoiled and tried to snap at its flying attackers. It was only then that Harry saw they weren't bees at all, but bat-shaped bogies.

The hex worked and the snake was driven off. Ginny jumped up and tried to revive Malfoy, who had passed out, but she soon realised she was out of her depth and ran for help.

"Come on, lets go after the snake, see where it goes," said Harry.

"Shouldn't we try and help Malfoy?" whispered Hermione who was pale and terrified looking.

"Hermione – this happened yesterday!" said Harry. "We know what happens to him!"

"Oh – oh yeah," said Hermione. "Come on, the snake's getting away."

They got up and moved as quickly after the snake as being hidden under the Invisibility Cloak would allow. Luckily, Ginny's hex seemed to have injured it and it was slithering along much more slowly than it would have normally done. It was making for the school gates though there was no sign of anyone outside. Hermione suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"Whatever happens, Harry, don't do anything," said Hermione. "If we see someone, don't attack them. Don't even attack the snake. We can't alter the timeline."

"But if I kill Voldemort as he tries to save his snake that won't have a bad effect on the future," said Harry.

"It will, Harry," said Hermione anxiously. "There can't be any major difference, good or bad don't come into it. Please promise me you won't do anything."

"Hermione -"

"Promise me," she said, sternly. "If you'll love me you'll promise."

"Okay, I promise," said Harry. "But that's the last time you can use that this month."

"Deal," said Hermione, grinning. "Hurry, it's nearly at the gates."

What happened next was such an anti-climax that Harry felt oddly let down. The snake slipped under the gates but rather than being scooped up by the waiting arms of Voldemort it burst into green flames and was gone. Harry and Hermione stood dumbfounded for several moments looking at the spot where the snake had been moments before.

"Well, Fawkes could sort of Apparate and I'm sure he and Dumbledore were connected somehow," said Harry. "Makes sense that Nagini can do it to. Voldemort was probably possessing it all the time."

"If that's true then at least he's hurt," said Hermione thoughtfully. "It wasn't a complete success for him."

"It wasn't any sort of success if he meant to kill Malfoy," Harry pointed out. "He's still alive, isn't he?"

"For now," said Hermione darkly.

"Now what?" asked Harry. "We've got about eleven hours to kill. Got any bright ideas?"

"Let's go into the Forest," said Hermione, an impish grin at the corners of her eyes. "We won't get caught there."

"What did you have in mind?" said crooned.

"Just taking off the cloak, Harry," Hermione grinned. "God, you are incorrigible."

"Oh yeah, that's what I was thinking off," said Harry trying to hide his blush.

They made their way a short way into the Forbidden Forest, just far enough to be shielded from any eyes which might pass that way. Hermione threw off the cloak and sat down against a thick oak. Harry folded the cloak, slipped it inside his robes and joined her.

"Hi," she said breathlessly.

"Do you come here often?" asked Harry with a grin. Hermione laughed out loud.

"How did you ever get any girls?" she asked. "You're chat-up lines are hopeless."

"I don't need lines," said Harry. "Girls sort of come to me."

"Oh really!" cried Hermione incredulously. "Confidence isn't a problem for you, I see."

"Why shouldn't it be?" asked Harry. "You're a sure thing, aren't you?"

"Oh, Harry! The cheek of you!"

Hermione made to tickle Harry. He grabbed her and rolled her over and they wrestled like this for some time. Harry stopped with Hermione pinned down; her face was glowing and she had twigs and assorted debris through her hair. He bent down and kissed her. They stayed like that for some time, rolling around in a quite different way, until eventually they came to rest, both quite exhausted.

"Right, I think we should return to the present now," said Hermione.

"What? I thought you said it was dangerous," said Harry.

"It's called a white lie, darling," said Hermione with a wink. "I just wanted to get you on your own for a bit. Come on, back to the broom cupboard with you."


	20. Cups and Sorcerers

Chapter 20 – Cups and Sorcerers

It is a universal truth that knowing about a bad situation is not nearly as stressful as contemplating what to do about it. It was a truth Harry was learning in the hardest of ways. He could think of little but all the composite parts of a very complicated situation; Ginny, Malfoy, their bizarre and, frankly disturbing, new relationship, the snake, Snape. Ideas of Voldemort, Horcruxes and such were far from his mind now.

The one bright spot on the whole thing was that Hermione and Enola were getting on very well. They were so well disposed to like each other that they could have been sisters. Harry thought, to his surprise, that Enola was probably Hermione's first proper female friend. She had always held something back from her friendship with Ginny for obvious reasons, but with Enola she was relaxed and open. They had a curious amount in common, most important of which was their relationships with unique boys. It served to bond them in a most potent way.

"She really gets it, you know," Hermione said one evening over dinner. They had decided to dine al fresco and were sat under a magically heated parasol near the Great Lake.

"Gets what?" asked Harry.

"What it's like going out with someone, well, different."

"Different? That makes me sound grand," said Harry, affronted.

"We really have to work on your self-esteem," said Hermione. "What I meant was that because of who you are, your reputation, your mission and things it, well…makes you quite a scary boyfriend to have."

"Thanks for that," said Harry. "I'll try and be normal for you, shall I?"

"Ah but I might not like you if you were normal," said Hermione. "You're a risk, you're dangerous. It's exciting and sexy."

"You're sounding like a fangirl," said Harry. "Is it really sexy?"

"Really, really," said Hermione sultrily. "Oh and how!"

"And Enola knows this too?"

"Not about you," said Hermione grinning. "But from what she told me about Ryan he's even bigger than you where they come from. They left their Eighth Continent, or whatever its called, to finish off supporters of their own Dark Lord that had fled here. That's how they came to work for the Apex Faction. But back at home Ryan is like a demi-god to their people. It's probably even harder for Enola being with him than it is for us."

Harry tried to imagine having things worse than he did; the expectation to defeat Voldemort was one thing but to lead a whole race of people was a sobering thought. He felt sorry for Ryan for the first time; it was a strange sensation as he'd begun to think of Ryan with a distant reverence bordering on fanaticism.

"That poor girl has it tough," said Hermione. "I don't think she's too keen on this Hannah girl either. It'd be like me having to share you with Ron, if Ron were a pretty blonde girl."

That was an image that stayed with Harry for several days. Enola settled quickly into life at Hogwarts, such as it was. Her first few days placed her as the centre of attention with the students all interested in this exotic newcomer. The boys of the school were particularly keen to catch a glimpse of her with many declaring that 'they didn't make them like that at Hogwarts' and finding silly excuses to talk to her, like asking if the sky was blue and water wet where she came from.

All the while Harry was left to ponder his next move. Ginny was the obvious target but also the one he was keen to avoid like the plague. He hadn't spoken to Ginny in months and he was kept awake at night imagining the conversation they would have about Malfoy. He was sure that she wouldn't take well to him poking his nose into her private life or the idea that he'd used a Time Turner to find out what had happened.

"She'd probably think that I'd been following her," Harry told Ron one morning when he turned up at Hogwarts. Ron was so angry at Harry's revelation that his face turned as red as his hair and for a while he could only speak in monosyllabic grunts reminding Harry fiercely of Uncle Vernon.

"Malfoy – how dare – kill – hated – MALFOY!"

"I know, mate, I know," said Harry consolingly. "Don't say I told you, though."

Ron looked at Harry with a mix of fury and disbelief. "I'm not going to say anything to that treacherous tart ever again! She's like Percy to me now. Malfoy…can you believe it? Of all the things! I'd rather she dated a house-elf, or even a Muggle! Malfoy! I feel dirty. It's like being raped from a distance."

"How exactly -" Harry began before being interrupted by a deafening crunching noise, followed by many terrified squawks from the Forbidden Forest.

"Grawp's up then," said Ron nodding to the flock of birds whose tree had just been ripped down by Hagrid's giant brother.

"He's been okay recently," said Harry. "Must have had a bad dream."

"Do giants have _good_ dreams? What could they be?" asked Ron.

"Dunno," said Harry. "Look, I know you're miffed about Ginny and You Know Who Two, but don't say anything. I need to find out what happened and if you say anything she won't speak to either of us."

"Fine," Ron grunted. "I think I'm going to go. I was supposed to meet Luna for breakfast but I don't think my stomach can take it. Apologise for me, would you?"

"Sensitivity, too? Really are a new man, aren't you?" Harry said with a chortle.

"Influence of a good woman," said Ron unabashed. "You should know that. I'll see you, Harry."

"Look after yourself," said Harry and Ron left. Harry watched him go with a strangely jealous feeling, like Ron had finally gotten his life together and in motion while he, himself, seemed to have stalled.

December dawned cold and frosty and Harry felt himself looking towards the 25th hoping that Santa Claus was real and would drop a Horcrux into his present pile. Leads on the Horcruxes were non-existent, Harry's fears about an imminent attack on Hogwarts were looking more and more unfounded and the only thing keeping his mind occupied was the prospect of Practical Defence classes due to start after the Christmas holidays.

Enola had turned out to be a real asset in this area. She knew things about combat that belied her feminine graces and was a constant source of ideas for Hermione's lesson planning. She had taken to the task with great vigour and renewed application, using Enola's surprisingly vast experience like she would a text book. She presented her completed plan to McGonagall who approved of it and smiled for the first time in months.

And thus Harry found himself, surrounded by happy people but plagued by negative thoughts himself. He was getting nowhere fast and was sure that Voldemort must be massively ahead in his own plans. This was despite the success of Mr Weasley's Muggle Protection task force which had virtually halted all unexplained deaths amongst the Muggle populous. One newspaper even declared that the cessation of the mysterious spate of killings occurred 'as if by magic'.

Harry was confident of falling into despair and he couldn't even confide in Hermione who was so bubbly over her new friendship with Enola that Harry didn't have the heart to darken her door with his own woes. Just when his spirits were reaching their lowest ebb a shot of hope arrived from the most unexpected source imaginable.

It was late one evening and Harry was sat in the Gryffindor Common Room playing wizard's chess against Neville with Enola watching eagerly on. Hermione was snoozing in the armchair by the fire, a book dangling precariously from her lap. Harry was about to sacrifice his bishop when a commotion outside the tower caught everyone's attention. Hermione stirred as the portrait hole swung open and Professor McGonagall's tartan-bonneted head appeared.

"Potter come quick, you're needed," she panted. It was only then that Harry noticed her face was white with fear and her manner hugely agitated. "All of you come, Hogwarts is under attack."

Harry jumped up, knocking the chessboard aside. Hermione was at his side by the time he reached the portrait hole, Neville and Enola close behind. They followed McGonagall down the stairs and out into the grounds. A battle was raging outside and Harry looked aghast at the scene. The Entrance gates had been blown open and Hagrid's house was on fire, lighting the place in a dancing orange glow. Hooded wizards were pouring through the gates fighting multiple wizards already inside Hogwarts while Hagrid stomped around raining blows this way and that. Harry barely had time to register what was happening when part of the roof above his head was hit by a curse. Hermione cast a quick spell to divert the debris and they ran for cover.

"What's happening?" Harry called to McGonagall.

"We were alerted that the school was about to be attacked," she replied. We only just called reinforcements in time."

A piercing shriek cut through the air and the flapping of many wings passed overhead.

"What are they?" Neville cried.

"We don't know," said McGonagall. "Some foul beast of Voldemort's no doubt."

Enola was perched ready to pounce, reminding Harry of a cat about to strike. He turned to her, "I'm sorry to get you involved in this."

"This?" she gestured around. "This is what it's all about. I'm going to take care of those flying things. See you soon."

Before Harry could protest she was up and gone, darting across the battlefield without a care. Harry saw silvery white blasts erupt from her twin wands and several of the hooded shapes in the dark crumpled to the floor. He turned to Neville and Hermione who grinned with approval.

"Shall we?" Harry asked. Hermione and Neville raised their wands and together they jumped up. They were about to enter the fray when two figures bounded up from the corridor leading to the dungeons and joined them.

"What's going on?" asked Ron. Harry was half-amused to see him buttoning his shirt as Luna next to him straightened her radish earrings.

"We're getting a kicking by the looks of things," said Harry. "Come on."

Harry dashed forward and ran right into a pack of the flying creatures. They shrieked and clawed at him with sharp talons as the others tried to fend them off. Harry felt the warm trickle of blood course down his face.

"At least your face will balance with twin scars," Luna pointed out fairly as the airborne devils soared away. Harry couldn't help grinning at this and darted back towards the fight. He had barely gone a few feet or so when a huge rushing sound drew his attention. Looking towards Hagrid's hut he saw the swirl of a great whirlwind sweep the fire from his house and spew it into the night sky. Hundreds of little orange dots coated the scene as the flying monsters were set alight, their sickening cries echoing around the place.

"Way to go Enola!" called Neville as Ron punched the air triumphantly. The group began firing spells towards the massed ranks of hooded wizards, though in the dark it was impossible to see if they had hit their targets. Harry was desperate to test out his own unique spell for the first time with so many prime candidates and soon broke away from the group and found a suitable target. For an instant Harry did think it was dishonourable to strike an opponent from behind but at the same time reminded himself that Death Eaters were scum who had no concept of honour. He pointed his wand towards his target.

"_Ochoviamus!"_ he cried. The dark shape in front of him rose into the air, his arms and legs snapping taut as Harry commanded. The pained cries rang out across the open space as Harry pulled tighter and tighter. Harry was locked in his own power and only vaguely aware of the thuds of feet around him. He was impervious to the distant calls to him but suddenly one cut through.

"Harry! Stop it! That's enough!"

It was Hermione's voice and she sounded so panicked that Harry came out of his trance afraid for her. The body dropped hard to the earth as Harry looked around at the stricken faces of his friends. His was slightly annoyed that none of them was impressed by his display.

"Harry…w-what was that?" asked Neville, his voice small.

"It was curse…I invented it," said Harry.

"You _invented_ a curse?" said Ron aghast. It was this response more than the others which startled Harry.

"Yeah, so?"

"To invent a curse is powerfully advanced Dark Magic," said a slimy voice from the body on the floor. "I always knew there was something not right about you, Potter."

"Snape!" yelled Harry pointing his wand at his old Potions master. He was about to fire off another curse when Professor McGonagall jumped in his way. "What are you doing?"

"Stopping you," said McGonagall.

"You're protecting him!" cried Harry. "Have you gone crazy?"

"No, but you may have," said McGonagall. "Severus saved us so if you want to hurt him you'll have to go through me first."

Harry hesitated. "What?"

"He has been in contact with us for months, giving us inside information on Voldemort," said McGonagall. "It was he who told us of the impending attack."

"For what? He must be able to give something back to Voldemort! He's a traitor and I'm going to kill him."

"Not today, Harry," said Hermione. She had come up behind him and was easing his wand arm down. "He helped us. I saw him cursing the Death Eaters. Professor McGonagall's right."

"He called to the Aurors," said McGonagall. They arrived just in time to save us. Now the enemy has fled. Severus is a hero."  
"Hero!" Harry spat, incredulous. "He killed Dumbledore! I saw him do it!"

"You know nothing," said Snape getting up. "I did perform the killing curse on Dumbledore but technically he was already dead."

"Technically?"

"Dumbledore knew that the potion protecting the fake Horcrux was poison," said Snape curtly. "Yes, Potter, I know about the Horcruxes. Do you think you are the only piece of Dumbledore's plan? He knew that to drink the poison would mean death. It killed the first person who drank it and Dumbledore knew it would do the same to anyone else. For some ridiculous reason he thought it should be he that died and that you should help him. Personally, I would have reversed the roles."  
"Why me?" said Harry.

"Dumbledore realised that by some freak of nature you have the ability to destroy Horcruxes. He recognised a power in you that he, himself, possessed. He wanted you to see what it took to destroy a Horcrux, namely massive sacrifice. He was ageing, his hand crippled by the cursed ring. So he drank the potion and by the time I cursed him he was moments from death. You saw him that night, you can hardly doubt me."

Harry wanted to fiercely but he knew enough Legilimency by now to know Snape's words were true. "But what about Regulus Black? He's in Egypt."

"Hair samples are kept as part of any deal involving the Apex Faction," said Snape. "They call it a Biological Contract and use the hair for reasons no outsider knows. Dumbledore wanted you to know that the real Horcrux had been destroyed so arranged the meeting. Polyjuice Potion has its uses, you see."

"Then Dumbledore died for nothing," said Harry grimly. His mood was one of immense sadness at the thought.

"For once we agree," sneered Snape. "Though Dumbledore thought his passing acts would mean something to you I must admit I fail to see it. But he was wiser than most and we must trust his judgement."

"But answer me this, what are you doing here?" said Harry. "You have been kicked out, haven't you?"

Snape coloured in the darkness. "I knew you were getting nowhere with the Horcruxes and I have difficulty believing that there is a power you possess that I do not. I found the location of the cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. It was taken to Albania by Peter Pettigrew. The Dark Lord believed that the piece of his soul inside the object might be able to restore him to full strength after he met his demise at your hands. Needless to say, he failed."

"So it's in Albania?" said Harry. "Where?"

"I could not find it there," said Snape. "I had given up hope until I overheard a conversation between two old warlocks in a tavern out there. They were discussing the Dark Lord's return and one mentioned a strange party of travellers who passed through the village shortly after the Dark Lord's rebirth. They were carrying an ancient wooden box inside which was an object of great value. They said it was being returned to where it belonged…in Bulgaria."

"Bulgaria!" cried Hermione. Her voice had that tone it adopted whenever she realised something important. Snape was in full flow, however, and ignored her.

"Bulgaria," said Snape. "Suspecting, as I'm quite sure Miss Insufferable-Know-It-All here now does, that I knew the identity of the object in question I listened closer, but they were heavily drunk and soon the topic changed. I waited until they left and followed the storyteller home. It was not difficult to subdue him and perform Occlumency to confirm my suspicions."

"And was it?" said Hermione eagerly. "Was it the Goblet of Fire?"

A stunned silence followed a raft of gasps from the assembled crowd. Snape only offered a reluctant nod by way of acceptance of Hermione's sleuthing skills.

"And where did they take it?" Hermione continued.

"They were apparently taking it to a place called No Man's Land, where, as the name goes, no man can enter."

"What kind of place could a man not enter?" asked Ron.

"God, Ron, are you so chauvinistic and dense?" cried Hermione. "Isn't it obvious?"

She looked from Ron to Harry to Neville, who looked at each other with matching blank expressions.

"A place no man can go, in Bulgaria," said Hermione. "What do you think that could be?"

"A lesbian colony?" Ron suggested. "Which might be good to visit. Or something to do with feminism?"

"No, Ron," said Harry suddenly. As was his way, comprehension came slowly to him, but it did eventually arrive. "Remember…remember the mascots at the Quidditch World Cup?"

"Yes! You've got it, Harry!" cried Hermione, beaming with pride at him.

Harry and Ron just looked at each other before both chorused, "_Veela!"_

"A Veela den in Bulgaria!" said Hermione. "That's where the cup is?"

"Yes," said Snape coolly. "But the Veela are rarely seen in their own habitat. Finding them has proven very difficult. The Dark Lord believes his cup is safe in the protection of the Veela due to their influence over men. Clearly, he doesn't see women as a threat. But Dumbledore thought Potter was able to master the Veela and retrieve the cup. I was about to uncover the location of the Veela Colony in Bulgaria when news of my activities were leaked and the Dark Lord tried to kill me. He thinks I have been trying to generate support abroad for opposition to him, which led in turn to the attack tonight. There is still time to recover the cup but finding the Veela will be hard."

"Not for me!" cried Ron suddenly. "I might not be able to resist the Veela – don't look like that my little Moon Princess, they're magic beings – but I think I know where to find them."

"You do?" asked Harry hopefully. "How?"

"Well, I don't know personally," said Ron. "But I have a sister-in-law who does."

Harry grinned fiercely. Finally, they had a plan.


End file.
